Fire And Ice
by theeskimo1986
Summary: Claire Redfield is kidnapped...by Wesker. Starts Pre RE 5 to after. Rated M for language, gore, violence, and hardcore smut....
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Resident Evil franchise; that dubious honor belongs to CAPCOM. This story is rated M for strong lanuage, gore, and strong sexual content....and anything else that pops into my brain...

Chapter One

I was drunk. I knew it, and the cop outside my window knew it, too. My grip tightened on the steering wheel momentarily, before nervously I reached for my license and registration. I smiled at him as I handed the items over. He didn't smile back.

"Stay where you are, ma'am. I'll be right back." His retreating footsteps were welcome, however brief the reprieve would be. I could breath again, at least. I looked in the rear view mirror, and as the cop opened his door on the patrol car, headlights came into view around the bend. The road we were on was otherwise deserted. The car that had come around the corner, a black Cadillac, seemed to be accelerating swiftly, dirt was beginning to cloud around it's headlights heavily, and the sound of the engine got louder and louder.

I watched, transfixed, as the Cadillac swerved right into the patrol car's side, sending a shower of sparks flying, and then I screamed as it rear ended my car, shoving the whole vehicle forward several yards. The cop car's lights, which had been on anyway, gave the whole scene an eerie ambiance. The cop was out of his car, heading towards the Cadillac that had so suddenly hit us both, when the stranger's car backed up, forcing the cop to move or be hit, and then the maniac rammed me again. I was crying, trying to grasp the keys to start my car, my heart hammering, my palms sweaty. I looked back again in the mirror.

The cop pulled his gun, shouted something I couldn't quite decipher, then began shooting at the Cadillac behind me. The car backed up again, and I saw the person inside, but that was impossible; goddamn IMPOSSIBLE! He was, oh god, no, it's a mistake; not him, can't be him! Too quick, the car revved forward toward the cop, and once again he was forced to throw himself out of harm's way. At this point, the cop had given up shooting at the car, and instead ran to his car, no doubt to radio for help. Again, quicker than I could think, the Cadillac backed up, trying to hit the cop. This time, he only barely missed, instead crushing the whole side of the patrol car like a sardine can under a heel, as the cop rolled out of the way again.

I had to get a hold of myself; it wasn't him, I had to THINK damn it! Quickly, I opened my door, unbuckled, and screamed at the poor cop, "COME ON! LET'S GET GOING!!!" I slid over into the passenger seat just in time for the cop to come crashing into the door of the car, and before he had taken a seat, I had the ignition fired up. The Cadillac slammed into the back of my car again, sending both of us a little bit out of our seats. That's all it took for the cop to put the car in gear and slam on the accelerator, the door still swinging open in all the haste. Dirt rose up behind us, and for a moment I dared to hope he wouldn't follow, but I groaned aloud as headlights came cutting like a knife through the dust.

The cop, a bit out of breath, said "Hang on.", before yanking the steering wheel sharply to the right, almost flinging me out of my seat, and then there the ground was, the bottom of the ditch; although shallow, seemed as if it was an inch from my face, the car bounced upwards, and then we were crashing through a corn field, the Cadillac's headlights further behind us now, but I could see it backing up, coming after us. Tears streamed down my face silently, and I looked at the cop, whose eyes were straight ahead.

"The lights! Turn off the LIGHTS!" My voice was strange in my own ears, a hysteric edge to it that made it seem tinny; strained and afraid. It had been so long since I had heard myself sound like that. I shuddered, remembering the last time I had heard that kind of desperation in my voice. It couldn't be him, he was dead and buried; but by god, the terror level was the same; It FELT like him.

The cop had cut the lights, and then we were both blind, stalks of corn slamming into all sides of the car, banging and scrapping and making horrible thumping noises that were all encompassing. We didn't travel a straight line; not with the Caddy following us. It seemed to be gaining on us, which was unthinkably improbable; but it was gaining, none the less. The headlights were becoming more and more of an irritant, and I squinted as I looked back.

"Get ready." The cop said, and before I could ask him what he meant, he rammed up the emergency brake, turning the wheel sharply to the left. The car swung sickeningly until we were going back the way we came, the Caddy's lights bearing down on us, eating up the distance that we had fought so hard to claim. However, the cop didn't hesitate and accelerated fearlessly; straight at the stranger's car. Both vehicles ate up the distance; seeming to fly viciously at each other. The cop grinned, sweat glistening in the caddy's headlights, and I shuddered at the maniac gleam in his eye.

The game of chicken proved too much for the man in the Cadillac, and he was the first to swerve, which gave us the advantage. The cop gunned it, and it wasn't long before we encountered the same ditch we'd met earlier. He took it at an angle, and then my car was barreling along the road we'd started on.

I was shaking, sweating, gasping. My thoughts kept returning to HIM. I looked back, and as we turned around the bend onto a paved road, I still hadn't seen the Cadillac appear.

"What was that all about?" The cop gritted out, looking at me sharply, before returning his eyes to the road. He ignored a stop sign, and barreled out onto pavement.

"I-I don't know...I thought I knew him; but it can't be him...He's dead." I said, shivers starting to run up and down my back. I was trembling, my mind reeling violently. How many times had he been dead, I wondered. It shouldn't be, but maybe he'd survived, after all.

Albert Wesker was the closest a human (I choked on that, he was BARELY human) could come to being a cockroach.

"Dead? He didn't look very dead to me. Let's head to the station, it'll be a lot safer there."

I froze, staring at the cop. Another time, another place; Leon had said that same thing to me. I almost groaned aloud at the memory. I didn't feel very drunk anymore. It felt like the sky was caving in on me. How the hell did I always end up in the middle of all this bullshit?

"Hello? Miss?" the cop waved his hand in front of my face, pulling me abruptly back to reality. He looked as confused as I felt.

"Sorry. Deja' vu." I paused, and smiled at him weakly. "I'm Claire Redfield."

"Deja' vu, huh? So this happens often?" The cop smirked, and continued; "Name's Peter Griffin...yeah, I know, like I haven't heard enough Family Guy jokes." I smiled at him; he had to be in his late twenties, with dark short cropped hair and kind brown eyes; his cheeks still had a roundness to them, even though I could tell that under his uniform, he was built. He made me wish that Chris were here...I sighed. It had been months since I'd seen my older brother.

The car slowed, and I looked away from the cop's face to see why we were stopping. There was another car, seemingly run off the road into a tree. The entire front end of the Lumina was wrapped around the giant oak, and it looked like someone was trapped in the driver's seat.

Peter cut the engine, and said, "Stay here, Claire." I watched, transfixed, my car's headlights still blazing, as he jogged up to the wreck, and with some difficulty, he pried the door open. The man inside the car was thrashing around wildly, reaching for the police officer, and something about his movements sent alarm bells whistling loudly inside my brain. I stepped out of my car, and took a step forward, two steps, when suddenly the scene in front of me became almost unreal....the man in the driver's seat had grabbed onto the twisted door of his car, and pulled himself away from the wreckage. At first, I couldn't grasp why the picture looked so wrong, and then the man began to drag himself...minus his legs.

"Uuuugggh!" the man moaned pitifully. My world spun, and I could do nothing as Officer Peter Griffin knelt and reached out to the man, the THING; I could only watch as the monstrosity tore open the young police officer's throat, blood spraying everywhere. I stood there, hearing Peter gurgling on his own blood, trying soundlessly to scream, my eyes on his shocked face as he tried to pull his sidearm weakly.

His hand never made it to his gun belt; and I felt my stomach lurch as the zombie began tearing open Peter's face, chewing ravenously, little slurping noises still escaping the cop's gaping wound as I watched his eyes roll back in his skull, his body convulsing sharply before it went limp.

Suddenly, I became aware of an engine roaring behind me, and I turned numbly to stare at the bright lights bearing down on me. The car didn't slow as I had expected it to, instead, at the last second, it swerved around me, and as I turned again to follow it's path, I heard a loud "THUMP!" It was the black Cadillac; he had hit the zombie full force, sending a mist of warm liquid flying everywhere. Peter's body began to twitch underneath the back tire, and I saw his eyes open again, bloodshot and glazed in the bright shards of light that my car still projected. He let out a strangled moan, his arms reaching for me.

The door on the black car swung open. Wesker's tall form stepped out, and began to walk towards me. I backed up for each step he took, wary and afraid. I had absolutely no weapon on me but my combat knife, and that would be little more than a nuisance to the BOW in front of me. I pulled it from it's sheath anyway.

"What do you want?" I spat out, hoping that he couldn't hear the shakiness in my tone. He didn't answer, just kept leisurely advancing towards me. I stumbled into the front of my car, and Wesker took advantage of my clumsiness, closing the distance that was left between us. I swung my knife at his face, only to gasp as his hand caught my wrist painfully; the knife clattered to the pavement below us.

Before I knew it, I was being thrown over his shoulder roughly. I fought against him, swinging my fists into his back as hard as I could, kicking and even trying to bite. It was useless. The man was unmovable. I heard a click, and then I was flying down; I let out a loud "UMPH!" as my back hit something solid, and before I could regain my breath, the Caddy's trunk lid closed above me with a dull click. It was then that I screamed. Outrage and hurt came poring out of my mouth; I felt like a caged wildcat. I banged, clawed, tore, and hit at the trunk, all to no avail. And then I felt the car moving beneath me, the tires humming loudly in my ears.

Time passed. I became tired, my throat sore, my body aching, and I could feel my hands bleeding, the slow, steady thrumming of the engine and the tires making my eyes droop. I slept.

I woke up in pitch black darkness, and the terrible memories came flooding back at once. I no longer felt that I was moving, and I realized that I wasn't in the trunk anymore. It was cold in this room, and I shivered as I sat up.

"Good morning, dear heart."

The overhead light suddenly flashed to life above me, and I was briefly blinded. Wesker stood at the threshold of a heavy looking metal door, his eyes on my face. Without the sunglasses, his eyes glinted red and gold at me, and I shivered for another reason entirely than the chill in the air. Quickly, I stood up, only to fall back again from the overwhelming dizziness. Before my body could hit the floor, Wesker was there, and quite suddenly, I was in his warm arms, held close to his body. The moment was brief, however, and as soon as I was righted and steady, he stepped back. I was dazed, speechless, and reeling. He had smelled good, and his arms were rock solid, but gentle. I was instantly suspicious. Gentle was not a word that I had ever associated with Wesker. I stepped back warily, trying to put a little more distance between us. His odor was still in my nostrils, and I found that it had a fogging effect on me; distance was best.

"What do you want?" I spoke, the volume of my voice unnecessary in the short space between us. I didn't care; I was angry, confused, and my head was aching like I'd been drinking heavily.....Oh yeah. I had been drinking the night before. So what, he didn't drug me. Just tried his best to destroy my car and kidnapped me.

"That answer will come...in time." Wesker's eyes held my gaze steadily, and I felt that eeriness encroaching on me again. "For now, though, dear heart, you shall remain here. I assure you, it is only temporary." He brought his hand up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and I flinched; the memory of his boot on my chest still vivid. "I will bring you something to eat, if you wish it." His eyes searched mine, and all I could do was nod dumbly.

"Something to drink." I croaked out; my throat was dry and scratchy from screaming. He nodded, and briskly exited the room; I heard the lock engage as it swung shut behind him. For a moment, I stood there, staring at the door; my mind slowly processing the conversation. I had to get out of here.

I turned around, and took stock of my surroundings. The room was large, and tall; the ceiling was a good seven feet above me. The furnishings were simple, a small sink in the corner, a toilet beside it. A shower head protruded from the ceiling a few feet to the right of the sink; no curtains, just a floor drain. A dresser stood on the other side of the room, close to the door, and there was a simple looking queen sized bed against one wall. The floor was linoleum, and there were no windows. Just a single vent at the very top of the ceiling; way out of my reach.

"Not the Ritz, but I assure you, your needs will be met during your stay." Wesker's voice was low and velvety next to my ear. I nearly jumped out of my skin; he had scared the shit out of me. I turned to see his smirking face, and he held out a bottle of water. It looked unopened...still, I sniffed it after I broke the seal; before finally sipping at it. The water was wet and ice cold going down my throat, and I took two long draughts from it, before capping it, and muttering a thank you.

"Your meal is being prepared; I hope you like pancakes." Wesker smiled, and I felt a cold chill race down my spine at the sight of his bared teeth. The gesture, while seemingly normal and genuine, didn't quite look right on the blonde haired man before me. It made his face seem a few years younger, the lines on his forehead had relaxed, and I realized for the first time how...comely his visage actually was. Years ago, I had met him. Before Umbrella; when Chris had first been hired to the S.T.A.R.S. Team. I'd thought Wesker was hot. It had been years since then, and I hadn't thought of it until now.

"Pancakes sound delicious." I barely whispered, my throat constricting. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I turned away from him. This was all too bizarre for me to take in all at once. I was trapped; I had no idea where I was, why I was here, and why in the hell Wesker, of all people, was treating me decently, if not being downright friendly.

"Claire." Wesker breathed, sounding concerned. I turned to him, and just let the tears fall; my hands were clenched at my sides, and I could feel the color rising to my cheeks. I was being weak; I was scared, alone, and at the mercy of a sociopath. Suddenly, his arms were around me, pulling me close to his chest, his hand petting my head in a soothing manner. "Shhh...it's alright, Claire."

"No, it's not. Why are you doing this? What do you want with me? I don't understand any of this!" I sobbed out, leaning into his embrace and hugging him around his waist tightly. It was strange; he had become a life preserver in the short span of hours. Maybe this was what happened to captives; I'd read somewhere that sometimes they begin to assimilate with their captors; become empathetic to the cause.

"Dear heart, can you really not wait for things to be revealed?" He paused, and I looked up into his red-tinged amber gaze. "You have something, Claire. Something that only you can give to me. I cannot take it by force; that would be wrong of me."

"Since when have you worried about what's right or wrong?" I quipped back, instantly regretting it. Instead of being angry, he meerly laughed.

"I admire that about you; you always say what you mean. Crude, but effective." Wesker's voice had a husky edge to it, as if he were holding something back from me.

"What could I possibly have that you need?" I wondered aloud, stepping out of his embrace, looking lost. Wesker only smirked, and took his trademark sunglasses out of his breast pocket.

"We'll save the suprise for later, dear heart." My heart fluttered this time when he called me 'dear heart', and suddenly I felt angry. I didn't want anything to do with this evil bastard standing before me, and I didn't want to feel anything for the brute. He was unfeeling, cold, and violent! He replaced the glasses on his face, gave me a cursory nod, and disappeared out the door. I heard the faint 'click' as it locked in his wake.

I threw myself down on the bed, and cried until finally I slept.

His plan was refining in his mind. The girl could have easily been forced to his will, but Albert Wesker was enjoying toying with her. Besides, he prefered his women pliant and willing. This experiment could be enjoyable on both their ends; and he'd get his way, just as he always did. Still, it was rather odd, the way his cold, unfeeling heart had actually been pained to see her tears. It was something that would require further study. He knew that the pheromones his body produced was affecting her, he could tell that in the way her pupils dialated everytime he was near her. He had counted on that reation. Her genetic makeup was perfect for this; she was well suited. That's why he chose her.

The needle he stuck in his own arm didn't pain him; he didn't register pain the way a normal human would; his body was unreceptive to outside conditions, and bar a samarai sword slicing open his abdomen, or other seriously grievious wounds, he couldn't be bothered much. More testing was required on his end. He must know why his heart had felt anything at all. He would order a CT scan, perhaps an MRI, and various other tests; although he suspected that none of those things would give him a definate answer. Perhaps the younger Redfield was just as adept at getting under his skin as her older sibling was.

Wesker frowned at the thought of Christopher Redfield. He'd come looking for Claire; the moment he got news of her disappearance. If his timing was impeccably horrible, per usual, Wesker might be wise to just take what he wanted from Claire and get this little experiment going; but he disliked rushing such things. He was, after all, a subtle person by nature, rarely rushing his plans or actions despite outside interferance.

Claire. She was beautiful, he had to admit it. No, this wouldn't be an imposition for him at all...

He smiled as he thought of how she had felt against him. Soft and yielding, she was damn near impossible to resist; he had almost taken her then. It had taken everything in him, all of his will power and self-control, to walk out of that room; the raging hard-on in his pants only now subsiding. It had been too long since he had partaken of the pleasures of the flesh, and his will was suffering now.

He stored the blood sample carefully, and then sat at his desk, clicking on the monitor to her room. It had been only minutes since he had departed, but he was shocked to see that she was lying on her bed, curled up on her side clutching at the pillow and weeping bitterly. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, he had to stop himself from grabbing at it. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the virus changing him? Or was it something else? He stared at Claire on the tiny monitor, and disgustedly clicked it back off.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I awoke to a dimly lit room. Closing my aching eyes, I rubbed the top of my head lightly. My hair was an absolute mess. I breathed in, only to choke slightly at the smell of myself. Wrinkling my nose in disapproval, I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, and as I did, the overhead lights flickered slowly to life around me. I noted that there was a topped platter on a T.V. Tray, much like the ones that you'd find in a hospital. I touched the lid, and sure enough, it was still warm.

Opening the container revealed a full plate of pancakes, with fruit on the side and a few little syrup packets. There was even a little plastic container that had powdered sugar in it. I ate slowly, saving the fruit until the end. The strawberries were the best; they were sweet on my tongue and I washed the meal down with the rest of my bottled water. Full, I stood leisurely and stretched, feeling the tightness in my back muscles. Now it was time for a shower.

I looked through the dresser, and found that the whole bottom drawer was devoted to towels and wash clothes. They were beige, just like the rest of the room, and I sighed at the lack of color. Before I undressed, my eyes warily searched the corners of the room for cameras, but I was unable to find anything that remotely resembled one. That was good. Wesker probably figured that a camera was useless in here, seeing as there was only one exit, and no windows. I fought the tears that threatened to break the surface, feeling as if I was doomed.

Undressing ceremoniously, and throwing my dirty jeans and tank top at the foot of the bed, I approached the shower. The linoleum was cold beneath my feet, and I shivered as I puzzled over the control panel. There was a small digital screen, with two little buttons, resembling the ones on an elevator; the call buttons. I pushed the UP button, and the little digital screen registered 85 degrees F. For a moment, nothing happened. Then hot water came raining down on my head, deliciously warm and encompassing. I sighed, and reached for the soap.

Wesker smiled. Claire had awoken, and his eyes roved her body on the little monitor; he would have to get a larger screen. She was stunningly beautiful. He'd just have to time his entrance right; but what he really wanted to do was walk right in there now, slam her frail-looking frame against the wall, and rut with her.

'Patience', he mentally reminded himself. He turned the monitor off, and walked out of his office towards Claire's room.

I pushed the down button, and the water stopped abruptly. I turned, and grabbed the towel that I had laid on the sink. I barely had it wrapped around me when the door swung open. Wesker stepped in, and I pulled the terry cloth around myself tighter.

"Dear heart..." He began, and then raised an eyebrow under his sunglasses. My throat tightened, and I took a step back. Fear began leeching into my veins, cold and rampant. The heart in my chest felt like it was attempting to fly out of my ribcage, and I retreated until my back hit the cold wet wall behind me. Wesker turned his back to me, making a show of averting his eyes.

"Get dressed." His voice was curt; but with a husky undertone to it that I hadn't heard before. I hurried to the dresser, and pulled out the first thing that my fingers touched. It was a simple dress, cornflower blue, spaghetti strap, with a plunging neckline. Not my personal taste, but none the less, I pulled it hastily over my head, and when that was done, I began to run the towel over my drenched hair.

"Okay, I'm decent." I muttered through the towel. He turned, and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, next time I'll knock." Wesker removed his sunglasses, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll bring you some more supplies shortly. Do you have any special requests?"

I thought for a minute, standing in the middle of the room.

"Yes, a hair brush, toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, and some shampoo and conditioner. Maybe something to read; assuming that I'm going to be here for a few days." I sighed, and walked to the bed to stand in front of him. "How long am I going to be here?"

Wesker's face was thoughtful; I could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain. "That, my dear heart, depends entirely on you."

"Then I want to go. Now." I turned my icy gray eyes on him; I was a Redfield, and my brother and I shared the same 100 yard stare. He merely snickered, and shook his head in negation.

"Claire..." He paused, and gestured for me to sit next to him. I sat down, making sure to sit on the other end of the bed; his proximity was becoming a problem for me; his smell made my head spin. "I have a proposal for you." He seemed torn, and the silence began to stretch out, making me more and more uncomfortable.

"Which is?" I prodded him, trying to smooth out my riotous hair. At that, he slid closer to me, inches from my face. His eyes met mine, his smell making me feel faint. I sucked in a ragged breath, and opened my mouth to ask a question, when suddenly his lips were on mine. My eyes shot wide, and I brought up my hand to push at his chest, but the gentle shove didn't even seem to register with him. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, pulling my lips closer to his own, and I made a little sound of protest. My will was weakening, his tongue licked at my lips in an unspoken question. I couldn't resist any longer.

Wesker's lips were soft, warm, and I closed my eyes, sighing into his mouth as I opened my own lips to return the kiss. My hands slid over his chest, and I breathed in his intoxicating scent, moving my tongue over his teeth.

Then, as abruptly as the kiss had begun, it was over. He pulled back, holding my shoulders for a moment, searching my eyes for something. I opened my mouth to speak, but before a word could leave my lips, he was opening the door. It swung closed behind him, and the click of the lock sliding home seemed twice as cold.

His heart was beating a furious rhythm in his chest, and he clutched at it, the feeling foreign to him. He was having a heart attack; something was horribly wrong. Wesker stumbled into his office, breathing labored and heavy. The hand that held the needle was shaky; what the hell was this reaction?! He must run more tests; the virus MUST be mutating him; but somewhere in his panic-stricken brain, he realized that it wasn't himself.

That thought stopped his hand. He dropped the needle. It was _her; _Claire. The kiss had been unplanned, unthinking. He was the one who was supposed to be in control, but when she had opened to his advances, he had been utterly at a loss. Wesker's heart still thudded, but not as bad. He was starting to think coherently again; these reactions were just his body responding to hers. Taking a breath to steady himself, he sat down at his desk, and clicked on the monitor.

Claire sat there, just where he had left her. Her eyes were clamped on the door, and her mouth hung open a bit, making him chuckle. He shouldn't have left. His plan was coming together; but he had never had his heart react that way before. It no longer worried him; he'd just adjust to it. The feeling wasn't completely unwelcome, after all. This would be much more exciting. He hurried out of his office, decision made.

I was stunned. After a time, I realized that my mouth was hanging open, and I closed it abruptly. What was that all about? My head was still spinning, and his smell clung to me stubbornly. I had to get out of here.

Climbing to my feet, I rushed to the door and began pounding on it.

"Open this door, Wesker! Open it!" Tears streamed down my face, making me angrier at my current lack of freedom. And the man who was behind it.

Suddenly, I was no longer beating on the door, it was open and standing in front of me was the man whom I was so furious at. I launched myself at him, aiming for his eyes; my fingers curled into claws. He strode forward, knocking my hands down with ease and pinning them to my sides as he pulled me into a tight embrace. My feet were lifted off the ground, and he just stared down into my eyes as he carried me back to the bed. He tossed me effortlessly onto my back on the bed. Then he was over me, his lips pressing against my cheek as he pressed his body on top of mine, his hands roving down my ribcage to my hips; I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh.

I tried to crawl out from under him, clawing at his chest, his arms, his face. I bit his shoulder hard, the tears rolling down my face helplessly. He pinned my wrists above my head, staring into my eyes. He kissed my lips, and I turned my head, trying to avoid the contact, but his lips just followed my own; this kiss wasn't like the first one, this was urgent and demanding. The moment his lips touched my own, I couldn't think anymore.

Wesker's tongue wrestled with my own, his lips hot and insistent as he moved against me roughly. I kissed him back, anger forgotten as I breathed in his clean scent. I could feel the smile that briefly flashed across his lips as he let my wrist go. My hands came to the back of his head and I pulled his face down closer to my own, fingers running through his soft hair, surely mussing the carefully placed strands. He pulled his lips away, and kissed my cheek again, resting his head beside mine, his sharp breath tickling past my ear.

"I want you, Claire." His whispered words sent shivers running through my body. His hand rested on my leg, and I trembled as he rubbed his fingers gently under my dress. I felt overheated. The trembling increased as he ran his hand up my inner thigh, slowly rubbing just under my sex. My hips bucked up involuntarily, and that was all the invitation he needed to slide his finger into me. I cried out, moaning at the sensation building inside as he slid his digit in and out of me slowly. I could feel the wetness between my legs growing as his pace increased. The amber eyes he possessed burned into my own, his lips pressing against my own sweetly.

I thrashed beneath him, and he used his thumb to grind down on my clit, drawing circles around the little bud until suddenly I came in a great rush, crying out loudly. It was a moment before he pulled his fingers from my flesh, and I watched him, transfixed, as he brought them to his mouth and licked away my juices. Wesker's eyes slid shut as he savored the taste. I could only stare at him.

Embarrassment crept over me; he had used me, played me like a fiddle. The tears started anew.

Her release had been beyond beautiful. He couldn't help himself as he slid his fingers into his mouth, relishing the taste of her. When Wesker opened her eyes, he was distressed to see wetness on her cheeks.

"Claire, don't cry." Her eyes focused on his own, and that awful thumping started in his chest again. He ignored it.

"You...y-you..." She started, but burst into hysterical sobs. He kissed her cheek, kissed her nose, kissed every part of her face gently, until she nuzzled her face into his neck, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

"You asked me earlier why you were brought here. This was the reason." Her eyes flashed up at him, angry and indignant.

"You bastard!" Claire hissed out between clenched teeth. "Fuck you, Wesker! Get off of me! Let me go!" She pushed at him with all of her strength, but he was unyielding.

"Dear heart, don't fight me. You enjoyed that, didn't you? I can do so much more for you. To you." Wesker nibbled her collar bone with his lips, tasting her lightly with his tongue. She became very still for a moment, before doubling her efforts for escape. This time he relented, removing his body from over hers. He sat beside her, staring down at her.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" Claire scrambled from the bed, and backed herself into the corner of the room. "You tricked me! I don't want your vile hands to touch me! Stay away!"

Anger flitted across his visage, before Wesker stood and walked to the door. He opened it, but before exiting, he turned back to her.

"If you want to go back to your brother alive, you might want to re-think that."

Wesker slammed the door behind him, the boom echoing throughout the long corridor that attached his room to hers. He smiled; she'd come around sooner or later.

I sank down to the floor, clutching at the wall for support as my legs went to rubber beneath me. What had just happened?! Why did he want me for this? What the hell had I done to deserve this?!

I tore the dress from my sweat drenched body, and tossed it towards the door, intent only on getting his smell away from me. It landed way short of it's intended target, but I didn't really care. I sobbed pitifully, my head reeling. My body still ached for his hands; and at that moment, I hated myself more than I had ever hated Wesker. What had I done?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Wesker rewound the camera. He watched it again, playing with the angles. Exquisite. The bulge in his pants tugged uncomfortably, and he shifted in his chair. The situation could have been handled better, but her eyes when he'd opened the door had been swimming with tears, big and pleading. He had acted impulsively; and somehow he couldn't fathom, he had no regret. Well, almost no regret. Wesker willed his raging hard-on away; which it stubbornly refused.

Slow and steady. Isn't that what his mother used to tell him? Wesker's memories from his human life were fading; it almost seemed to him that this was how he'd always been. That was honestly alright with him; from what little Wesker remembered of his childhood, that was better. He traced the faint scar just above his left ear; a remnant from one of his father's more vicious rages.

Wesker buzzed the kitchen; and put in an order for a dinner for two. There were no questions; his underlings knew better than to ask him any. It would be delivered at 1900 hours, promptly. Claire would not be requiring a luncheon; he wanted her hungry. As an afterthought, he dialed another extension, and put in an immediate order for the items Claire had requested. No sense in keeping her waiting.

A knock on the door alerted me, but I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, ignoring it. I wouldn't give that bastard another word. He wouldn't get what he wanted from me.

The door swung open , and I waited to hear Wesker's voice. It didn't come. Instead I heard something heavy being dropped into my cell, and then the door shutting and locking. Only the sound of my own breathing was there.

Drawing my feet out from under the covers, I stared at the non-descript brown bag that lay beside the door. Curiosity got the better of me, as I found myself rummaging through it's contents. It was everything on the list I had given to Wesker. The magazine selection was quite impressive, and there were even a few books thrown in. I smiled at the first book I pulled from the bag. Interview with a Vampire, by Anne Rice.

That was too good to be a guess. Wesker must've done his homework. That thought sent chills running up my spine. This wasn't a chance encounter; this was all premeditated. How long had that man been lusting after me? What if it wasn't just about lust? I didn't know what else it could be.

It just didn't make sense to me. I was passably pretty, my nose was too large for my face, and I looked a lot like my big brother; and while those features looked good on Christopher, they were entirely too masculine on me. It would make much more sense if Wesker were using me to draw out my older brother, whom he hated. But the one thing that Wesker had never done to me was lie.

Shaking my head, I put away my meager supplies, and climbed back into the warmth of my bed, bringing my newly acquired copy of Anne Rice's best work. I didn't know what time it was; there was no clock, so I passed the time in chapters, not hours. Eventually, my eyes drooped, and I set the book aside. Yawning, my mind filled with thoughts of Louis and Claudia searching for "their own kind", I rolled onto my back, and focused on sleeping.

I awoke to darkness. Groaning, I pulled myself to my feet, the lights sputtering to life above me. Sleeping for so long was taking it's toll on me; I always felt more tired than when I'd started. I noticed two things immediately. There was a dress hanging on the edge of the dresser, black and flowing. A box sat on top of it, with a little slip of paper. I strode to the items, and picked up the folded paper.

_Your presence is requested at your disposal. Please, accept these gifts, as a token of my sincerest apologies for what transpired earlier, dear heart. I will be waiting for you._

_A. Wesker_

Setting the note aside, I reached for the box. It was velvet, and a little red bow was eloquently tied around it. I pulled the bow off and placed that on top of the letter. When I opened the box, it contained the most beautiful necklace I had ever seen. A glittering silver chain, interspersed with diamonds and rubies, with a teardrop shaped pendant hanging at it's center, a large ruby surrounded by little diamonds. My mouth made a perfect O as I stared at the jewelery in the box.

I put that carefully to the side, and shakily picked up the dress. It was stunning.

But I couldn't...no, wouldn't, be joining Wesker for dinner. My stomach growled in protest. There was my dilemma; my stomach. Food was always my downfall. My mouth watered at the prospect. Maybe a silent appearance? Nothing said I had to be good company.

Decision made, I grabbed out some of my bathing supplies, and showered, taking my time. Let him wait. I thought about choosing something else to wear, just to spite him, but instantly dismissed the notion. No point in making needless conversation. I brushed my hair, and wrapped it into a severe bun at the base of my neck, picking out a few of my longer strands to frame my face with. I'd have to ask for a blow dryer soon. The dress came next, and I was a bit put off by the amount of flesh that it showed; the neckline plunged further than I would have liked, and the back was almost non-existent, the only thing covering it was a series of thin ribbons that that tied at the crest of my ass. Figures.

The bottom of the dress, however, I approved of, long and flowing, it covered to about mid calf. I frowned; were there shoes? Well, if Wesker hadn't thought of that, then it was his own damn fault. I wasn't particular when it came to dining barefoot. The tiny mirror above the sink showed me my pale reflection, and I fiddled with my hair until it looked right. Gingerly, I took the necklace from it's box, and put it on. It was longer than I had expected it to be, half of it's length had been hidden by the box it was in. The pendant rested at the top of my cleavage. That figured, too. I heard a loud click, and turned around. Nothing was there. But....

I approached the door, and much to my surprise, it opened. A shoe box was waiting outside my door, and there was a note on it.

_Dear heart, Please make your way to the left. Open the door at the end of the corridor, and we shall dine._

_A. Wesker_

Looking right, and finding no doors or openings, I sighed, and grabbed the shoe box. Inside, a pair of black leather strappy stiletto heels, probably about three inches high. Of course he'd pick them. I hastily put them on, and made my way towards the only other door in this ridiculously long hallway.

He paced. She was taking too long. She wasn't coming. Claire had been angry with him, and no amount of material items would buy her attention after what he'd done. He should just force her, save himself the time and misery. Wesker's back stiffened when he heard someone approaching the door to his room. His fingers lightly went over his hair, checking it's placement, before he took his seat at the circular table. Bracing himself mentally, he sucked in a calming breath, and waited.

Author's note: Okay, so this one is short too, but i have to get up in like, two hours to go to work; didn't get home till late, and I'm sorry. Hope you like this chapter. I swear that I should have more by tomorrow night.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sight of her made his heart hammer what seemed like a million beats all at once; a crescendo of sound-like sensations that crashed over him again and again. Wesker was overwhelmed The tall, slinky, seductive creature that was before him; this vision of perfection; could not be here to honor a dinner arrangement with him! No, she was an angel, and he had done the impossible, and died. Claire was simply ravishing.

"You look lovely." His voice was a low purr, silken and warm. Wesker ran his eyes over her body, starting at her feet and moving his way up to linger on her face. Claire's pale violet-tinged eyes seemed almost to glass over; as if she were melting in place. Her full, pink lips parted in surprise ever so slightly. A dark blush bruised her cheeks, and yet, she did the same to him; eyes roving in hunger over his muscular form. Her gaze lingered at his belt line.

Delicious.

As soon as I opened the door, _his _smell assaulted me. One whiff, and it was over. Every millimeter of my body was on fire, tingling and alive; almost as if I were electrified. I wanted him. And what a picture he cut.

Sitting at the left side of a circular mahogany table, feet crossed in front of him comfortably. His words sent tingles all up and down my spine, and I could feel his eyes on me; the blush creeping steadily up to my cheeks. Embarrassed, I assessed him in the same manner, tit for tat. Black slacks, a black overcoat over a red vest and white undershirt; with a matching red tie. His cuff links, I noticed, looked like they might have a small diamond in the center of them; the light from the fireplace behind him made them glint at me briefly. His posture was relaxed, natural, but then he was standing up, striding towards me.

In three steps he was upon me, taking my hand, kissing my cheek, and guiding me to my seat. The high backed chair was pulled out for me, and only when I motioned politely that I was comfortable, did he release my hand and sit opposite me.

"I am glad you decided to join me." Wesker stated, looking sincerely pleased. He was looking at me as if I were his universe; and I didn't quite know whether to be deeply flattered or scared. I felt relaxed and tense all at the same time; as contradicted as much in my body as I was in my mind. It took me a moment to realize that I was beginning to quiver as if I were violently cold. He fluidly stood up, shrugged out of his jacket, and draped it upon my shoulders loosely. I took it without hesitation.

Mistake. A brand new wave of his scent encompassed me, making me lightheaded and a bit giddy; as if I had way too much wine. I felt hot all over, but still, I shook as if the coldest of breezes were blowing against my bare skin.

"I'm glad too." I replied weakly. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind, but in my current fog, the information eluded me. Like something had just clicked to the "on" position in my brain, the puzzle pieces falling together.

Wesker pored us each a glass of red wine, expensive, judging by the bottle. I took mine gratefully, bringing my nose over top of the glass, sniffing. My brother had taught me that; smell the wine, especially if someone else serves you. If you have what he called a "careful" nose; a slight bitter smell, or sickly sweet one can mean that you're being drugged. However, most people did this before drinking wine; the consummate wine drinker did this to test what is called the "bouquet". Reputedly, it enhanced the wine drinking experience.

Of course, those people also spit the wine out after tasting it. That I did not do. Once I had deemed it safe, I took a healthy swallow. I wanted a cigarette.

"Do you have a smoke, Wesker?" I asked sheepishly, setting my glass down.

"I do not, Miss Redfield. You did, however, have a half of a pack in your purse. You may have that; I have them here." Wesker gestured to a table against the wall behind me, and my denim purse was sitting next to a desk lamp. "The desk drawer beneath it has an ashtray. Make yourself comfortable, we have a few more minutes before dinner is ready."

"Why are you keeping me here really?" I asked as I sat back down with my smokes and the engraved silver ashtray. I met his gaze icily, trying my best to be stoic. Crossing my legs over the side of the chair, and languidly smoking a cigarette, I waited for his answer.

"I require an heir, dear heart." Wesker's voice was low and quiet. My head reeled violently as his words hit me. "I have something important coming up in the coming months. Something that if it goes well, I can retire. If it doesn't, well," he paused, waving his hand absently in the air. "If things don't go in my favor, which is unlikely but still probable, then who will carry on my name? My mimetic legacy shall be gone forever. Unless I have an heir."

My heart slammed against my ribcage in a frenzied flutter, and I tensed, readying myself for an attack. An heir? A child? He was unfit; psychotic! A baby at the mercy of a monster....I shuddered, suddenly cold.

"No." I whispered darkly, scrambling to my feet. This wouldn't happen.

"Claire, be reasonable." I backed away from the table, heading deeper into his room; if there was no exit where I'd been before, there must be one here.

"No no no no no no no...." I shook my head violently in negation, almost hysterical. He was on his feet in an instant, stalking me patiently. I bumped into something solid, and that was all it took for him to be on me. I skidded back onto the flat surface of a table, crying out when my elbow caught the corner sharply. I was slid further back, my pained yelp unheeded by Wesker. He was kissing me roughly, covering my body with his own. His hands clenched onto either side of my face, until finally I yielded.

Opening my mouth, I sucked in his tongue, seeking to dominate this situation. It didn't matter anymore that he was using me as an incubator for his demon seed; I just wanted him, maybe more than I'd ever wanted anything before. I was tired of fighting the all-consuming fire that was Albert Wesker. I opened my legs so that he was pressed between my thighs; the hard bulge in his pants pressing on my sex, grinding into me roughly. I moaned around his tongue, clawing at his vest in a clumsy attempt of removing it.

My whole body was trembling for him, and wherever his hands touched on my body, it left a white hot burning sensation. Wesker shrugged out of his vest, and as soon as he swooped back in to catch my lips in a kiss again, I began to unknot his tie effortlessly. As soon as I had slid that from around his wide, muscular shoulders, I began to work my fingers under his shirt's buttons, unfastening them with trembling fingers.

I bit into his lip lightly as my fingers ran along his smooth chest, over the hard plains of his stomach. He was a Greek god; Apollo incarnate. His eyes bore into mine, and he ran his knuckles lightly over my ribcage, bringing his hand up to cup one of my breasts gently. The nipple beneath the thin silk fabric drew taut, and I groaned at the lightning-bolt of pleasure that ran down to my sex from the contact.

A faint knock at the door echoed through the room, and Wesker growled deep in his throat. He kissed me again passionately, and looked me in the eyes pleadingly.

"Claire, I....feel.....for you. I haven't had such emotions or sensations assault me since I was as you are; maybe not even then. I don't want you to think that this is me forcing your hand; I don't want this to feel wrong for you. I want you to need this as much as I do, dear heart. Please; consider your feelings; emotional and physical before you hastily throw away something special." His words were like a slap in the face.

Wesker had feelings for me? He pulled himself off the table, and then helped me to my feet. I swayed, my legs feeling like Jello, and he pulled me close to him, ushering me to my seat at the table. Another knock arose, this one a bit more sharp than the last one. Wesker's brow pulled down, annoyance flickering across his square jaw before he could hide it. He swung the door wide, not caring about his disheveled appearance, and grabbed the cart from the poor man in the hallway. How did he get in through there? I wondered...I hadn't seen anything that could have been an entrance, let alone a decent exit. It must be hidden. I stored that information away for future use.

"Sir." The young man saluted; he wore a camouflage uniform. Wesker saluted him back, and dismissed the poor young man by slamming the door in his face.

"I took the liberty of ordering for us both; roast and potatoes with red eye gravy and green beans. Your file says that it is one of your favorites." Wesker's voice still had that edge to it; as if he was pained in some way.

"Yes, it is, thank you." I said coldly. His forehead creased at that, and he served us both wordlessly. We ate in silence, and when I was full, I dabbed my mouth daintily with the cloth napkin. I lit another cigarette, and finished that, too, in silence. The fire crackled noisily, a clock ticked steadily, and I became uncomfortable in the wooden seat.

She fidgeted restlessly in her seat across from him, and stamped out her cigarette almost angrily. This wasn't how he'd imagined this night going.

"Claire, I wanted to ask you something." he hesitated, and when she nodded to acknowledge that her attention was on him, he continued. "Do you know why your brother despises me so, and I him?"

"You were a turn-coat traitor. Plain and simple." Claire's ice gray eyes mocked him.

"Well, that cinched the deal, really. It began before that, actually. Over Jill." Wesker was amused to see her brows knit together in thought.

"Jill? You and her?" Claire was honestly curious.

"Well, no; but I had a bit of a thing for her. Christopher saw that, he knew. And talk about about a monkey wrench in the works. Your brother didn't even want her like that, but had deemed me, his superior officer, unworthy. Can't say I blame him, knowing now what I didn't then. I wasn't always a heartless bastard." Claire chuckled, the tension she had been visibly plagued with disappearing.

"I can see that. Chris always told me he thought of her as his kid sister; it helped him to be objective, he always would say." Claire sighed wistfully. "I haven't even called him in over a month. I'm such a bad sister."

"Not bad, Claire, just busy." Wesker took her hand in his own, squeezing her digits lightly. She pulled her hand away as if I'd stung her. A dull heavy thud echoed in my chest. "Why do you hate me, Claire?"

Claire patted his hand, and replied, "I don't hate you, Wesker. I really don't. And that's the problem." Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding.

"So you want me? Just as bad as I want you?" She nodded, blushing again beautifully. He stood, and offered her his hand.

"Can I have this dance?" At the word, 'dance', Beethoven's 7th symphony came poring out of hidden speakers, it's haunting melody weaving in beautiful patterns with the crackling and pops coming from the fireplace. Wesker's hand was extended, palm up; waiting for her answer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I put my hand shakily in his; his fingers closed around mine, the contact sending shock waves through my whole frame. In one deft movement, I was wrapped securely against Wesker's chest; his arms holding me gently.

'What am I doing? Why am I letting him touch me?' My inner voice screamed indignantly. 'What was it earlier that clicked in my head? I can't think...his smell...his _smell_!' I'd watched something on the Discovery Channel once, about animal breeding; how their glands worked to attract a mate, and how much a factor smell was to them when choosing the right mate. There was only one thing wrong with that assumption; Wesker was not right for me, or anyone.

I wrapped my arms up around him, returning the embrace and turning my cheek against his chest. I could hear his heart racing inside his chest. The thumping seemed to increase impossibly as I lightly ran my nails down his shoulders. He wasn't lying when he said he wanted me.

Wesker had always been forward when dealing with me; never mincing words.

"You smell amazing." He stated, breathing deeply against the top of my head. Wesker's fingers caught my chin, and pulled my face up gently to meet his eyes. "Please."

His thumb traced along my bottom lip, and he leaned his face towards my own. My breath caught in my throat, and suddenly, I blurted, "Why do I get dizzy whenever I smell you?"

Wesker pulled back, frowning in thought. "I don't know. Interesting reaction. What else does my scent do to you?" We turned in slow, easy circles in time with the music, his hands roving down my mostly exposed back. I swallowed, and bit my tongue to suppress a moan.

"Well, sometimes I forget to breathe."

"Like now?"

"Yeah, like now." His face was inches from my own, and I sucked in air hungrily, reeling from his proximity.

"What else?" He whispered, pulling his face beside my own. Wesker's breath tickled past my ear, sending a chill rushing down my spine.

"Hot, cold, shaky. All at once."

This was better than he had expected. He smiled, an evil and predatory twist of his lips that bespoke of victory, sweet-on-your-tongue victory. Better that his face was beside hers; she wouldn't have liked that smile much. His tongue snaked out, catching her earlobe, and he followed it quickly with his teeth, nipping at her ear playfully. Claire's fingers curled over his back, clenching against his flesh beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt. Her breathing came in short, fast gulps, and it seemed that she went limp against him for a moment, before pulling her spine to ram-rod attention. Wesker's fingers traced over her hour glass figure lightly, seeking to ease the line that her body seemed intent on carrying.

"Don't fight it. I need you safe, here, willing. It's not safe for you outside of these walls." Wesker said, his eyes suddenly boring into hers. He watched her shudder at the harshness of his words, saw the confusion etched on her face.

"Not safe? What are you talking about? I'm not safe here, with you." Claire struck out, pulling back, trying to break free of his hold. He was unyielding.

"There are forces lining up right now, people who wish to have you dead. They have the resources, the money and connections. I need you alive, dear heart. You were made for me." Wesker's fingers pulled her hair loose deftly, the thick mass falling around her shoulders and cascading down her back. He groaned, running his digits through her silky sable strands.

Claire looked confused. "Who wants me dead?"

"I was hired to kill you." She balked outwardly at that. "Which I have no intention of doing."

"Why not?" The question was simple; but he didn't have a simple answer for her.

"Dear heart. I tire of these questions. Can't we leave well enough alone?" His brow came down in a scowl as he kissed the tip of her nose.

The music came to a graceful close, and Wesker grabbed Claire's hand in his own, bringing his other to rest at the small of her back, and dipped her low. Their noses were touching, lips seconds away.

Her lips touched his; and he felt his eyes widen in surprise. Claire had kissed him first. Hungrily, he slammed his mouth down on hers, invading, conquering. His fingers stumbled over the stays on her dress, finally sliding them apart. Wesker growled, kissing her neckline, pulling her spaghetti straps down off her shoulders. Her scent was intoxicating; clean and floral.

Claire's hands roved over his back, her nails digging into his flesh lightly, and he moaned aloud at the lightning bolts of pleasure snaking through his tall frame. He couldn't stand the suspense any longer; the bulge in his pants was becoming unbearably tight.

In one quick, deft movement, he picked Claire up off her feet, bride style, and strode to his huge four-poster bed, never breaking eye contact with her. Her eyes were becoming that electric shade of violet-gray that he was beginning to adore; huh....adore. What exactly were these feelings? Wesker had never been in love, didn't believe in love, and yet here he was, noticing a gorgeous woman's _eyes _of all things when she was half naked and in his arms. Maybe he really had died; although the way his heart was racing in his chest, he highly doubted it.

He could like her, there were no rules on that. Love her? That could get complicated. He shoved those thoughts aside, for his later perusal. There were more important tasks at hand.

Gingerly, he laid her down on his black comforter, following her body with his own; covering her in gently nips and kisses. As his tongue traced the curve of her collar bone, his hands busied themselves with removing her dress; a task that seemed nigh impossible to his suddenly clumsy fingers. With an impatient grunt, he ripped the silk fabric down the front, making Claire gasp. His mouth found her little pink nipple, and he gave it a playful nip before moving downward, his tongue roving down her ribcage, across the flat plains of her stomach, ever lower. One more tear, and the dress that he had bought her earlier in the day was in total shambles.

She was moaning, panting, making cute little squealing noises that sent his heart hammering ever faster. He licked her hairless slit, and she bucked unexpectedly beneath him. His tongue and fingers delved deeper into her sweet warmth, his other free hand massaging her breast, his thumb grazing over her hard nipple. Claire groaned shrilly; her fingers now running along his scalp, her ankles resting over his shoulders.

When I came, it was hard, gut-wrenching. I cried out, nearly screaming his name. Wesker didn't wait, he hurriedly fumbled with his belt buckle, freeing his erection in such a rush. Slamming his hips forward, he buried his hardness home; to the hilt. My pelvis felt bruised; I did scream this time, but not his name; no this time all I managed to get out was, "Fuuuuchk!" He felt enormous inside of me, I felt as if I might fall apart at the seams from the shock waves of each powerful thrust.

"Like that?! Hmm?" His breathless words came close to my ear, and my head lolled back on the pillow helplessly, the strangled moan that escaped my lips his only answer; the only answer I could articulate. Our bodies rocked together wildly; seemingly without rhythm. My breathing became so labored, that I began to feel faint; and I felt another wave of euphoria hit me like a mack truck. I clung to him, my climax making me arch my back and dig my nails into Wesker's back. Two more thrusts into my quivering sex sent him teetering over the edge, and I felt his hot seed spilling into me.

When our breathing had calmed, Wesker pulled himself onto his elbows to look down into my eyes. Our bodies were still intimately cradling each other's, and he smiled contentedly before kissing my lips hungrily. The look in his red-tinted amber eyes told me that this night was just beginning; and my theory was proved right when I felt him hardening again inside of me.

Magnificent. Utterly magnificent. Wesker moved a stray lock of her hair off of Claire's sleeping visage, her breath fanning across his arm. Her back was lined up against his chest, knees slightly bent forward, and her hand rested lightly on his forearm. He guessed the time to be somewhere around three am, and while he had work to do, he couldn't bring himself to disturb her by moving. Besides that, she felt good there. Closing his eyes, he decided to let himself sleep; it wasn't necessary, but it wouldn't be such a bad idea to let his body heal from the torrid, bruising sex that he and Claire had just had. Not once, but four times he had taken her, hungrily, roughly. She had finally put a stop to it when he had made her bleed. The memory of the blood-smell came rushing back to him, making him hard again.

He hadn't wanted to stop, but knew that if he didn't, he could have seriously hurt her, and his chances of procreating. Wesker's hand rubbed her flat stomach, hoping feverently that his seed had taken inside of her. The timing was crucial; and he'd hate to have to resort to creating a child from a test tube. That had never seemed right to him; the idea of his progeny not being born as he had. Call it sentimentalism.

Wesker drifted in a half-sleep; never really going under, but not staying fully aware. This was the most he had ever let his guard down in...well, years. It felt good. It felt right.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I awoke slowly, little aches popping up across my body as my senses sharpened to the darkness surrounding me. I began to stretch, only to find that I was crushed against Wesker's chest, his arms holding me in an almost vise-like grip. I was sure that he was sleeping. The even rise of his chest lent credence to that fact. I sighed, leaning into his embrace, remembering last night. The sex had been amazing. Like everything else that I had ever seen Wesker do, he also excelled in that area.

His body heat was tremendous; how could he run so hot? I pulled gingerly from his embrace, slowly as to not wake him. The lights above flickered on, but still, he did not stir. Wesker lay on his side, a sheet barely covering one of his legs, and I stared fondly at this fine specimen. Long, muscular legs, a tight firm buttocks, washboard abs, a large and defined chest, wide shoulders and impressively large biceps; a statue of a man. I took a look at his equipment, blushing furiously at the sheer size of it while limp. It was no wonder I had bled last night.

His face was probably the most precious thing, his lips were slightly apart, hair mussed and golden, spiky and spilling down over his closed eyes in places. Such a wide, muscular jaw. My fingers itched to trace along the stubble that was accumulating there, my lips ached to kiss his.

Such a little slut traitor I'd become. My brother would never accept me again; I'd lain with the enemy. A tear spilled unbidden down my cheek, where it was quickly followed by another one. My body suddenly sagging from the mental exhaustion I'd fought off for days, I sat at the table where we had ate last night, and silently cried. I don't know how long I was there.

A hand lay on my shoulder gently, startling me from my self-pity. Wesker stood over me, a look of concern etched across his handsome features. I groaned aloud at that last thought. Handsome. What a no good whore I'd become. A strangled sob leaked out of my mouth, and I found myself in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder, hating myself all the more for my continued weakness.

"Dear heart, what's wrong?" Wesker's voice sounded warm, caring. I couldn't answer him, I felt as if the sky was crashing down on me, raining the world upon my head. How could he be so gentle? "Claire."

His fingers found my chin, gently bringing my eyes up to meet his own. The dying fire light glinted in his amber eyes, making them dance with red flecks. I kissed him then, my mind screaming at me to stop, my heart dancing in my chest. This was dangerous. This was wrong.

Dear god, this felt so right.

Wesker had awoken to an empty bed; he had drifted further into sleep than he had since before the virus had made him what he was. Soft sobs rent the air; and his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage. Seeking the source, he climbed out of bed, and found Claire sitting at the table. She was crying brokenly.

"Dear heart, what's wrong?" he asked, and when she didn't respond, he said, "Claire." Wesker brought her chin up, staring into her tear filled eyes, and then suddenly her lips locked with his, and he felt himself growing hard. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, lips still pressed to hers, and with the other hand shoved all of the forgotten refuse from their meal last night onto the floor hastily.

He entered her wet orifice, slowly, groaning out loud at the sensation of her tightness surrounding him. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, bucking furiously into his hips; staring into his eyes. And that's when the lights dimmed, and a piercing siren rent through the air. His computer screen clicked on, flashing to the entrance of this facility; he saw at least half a dozen men in tactical gear rush past the screen, before the picture changed; the cameras were movement sensitive.

Wesker disengaged their bodies, and pulled Claire against him.

"Go to your room, dear heart. Get dressed; we need to go." He whispered into her ear, lightly kissing her temple. He turned away from her, and silenced the alarm; inputting the code for the self destruct. They had roughly eight minutes to get out; plenty of time. Wesker dressed, and strapped his shoulder holster on, checking his side pack for extra ammunition. He was angry; fucking opposition.

He hesitated for a moment, and then reached in a drawer, pulling out another 9mm, and two extra clips of ammo. While he probably shouldn't arm her, Claire might need to protect herself through this. Before he left the room, Wesker typed one last code into the computer, and watched for twenty seconds until the screen started to flash and the auto erase kicked in. Then he was out of his door. Claire came bursting out of her room, looking wary. He handed her the gun, clicking the safety off as he did so.

"What's going on? Who were those men?"

"Enemies, of course. Not your friends, though. A rival pharmaceutical company flexing it's muscle." He answered her, moving forward. Wesker strode easily to the end of the hallway, and on the table there, he typed his four digit pass. The wall beside him opened up, revealing a sterile metal passageway. Looking back at Claire, he motioned with his hands to fall in; which she did without a seconds hesitation. He smirked briefly at that; Christopher must have taught her. For once, he was thankful to the elder Redfield; without proper training, this would have been a nightmare.

"The self destruct sequence has been activated. Five minutes until detonation. Repeat, five minutes until detonation." a computer's monotone rung out over the loud speaker. He heard Claire groan aloud at that.

Wesker moved on the balls of his feet, half jogging down the narrow hallway. The elevator was out; damn them. He barreled through another door that led to a long, twisted stair well, and looking right, then left quickly; clearing the room. A noise just above him alerted him to someone's presence, and he fired twice at the hulking black shadow that materialized there. The mercenary crumpled, his body sliding sickly down six stairs, hitting the wall before finally stopping. He passed the body, but stopped when he didn't hear Claire's footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw her standing over the body, searching it for ammo; the submachine gun already strapped around her shoulders.

For some reason, that made his heart beat loudly against his chest.

"That's my girl." He said jokingly, motioning for her to hurry, before moving on. Two more floors, and they were at the top. The doorway to their freedom was heavily guarded, six mercenaries stood, and Wesker fired his remaining four shots. When his gun clicked empty, rather than reload, he dashed forward, easily dodging the three bullets that came out of the business end of the semi-auto; one burst of fire before he was upon his victim, snapping his neck viciously. He heard three shots ring out behind him, and looked at the last guard as he fell heavily back against the wall, two shots through the throat, and one to the head.

"Impressive, my dear." Wesker praised, before heading toward the final doorway.

My heart was racing, adrenaline running rampant through my veins. I watched Wesker unload his weapon, and then rush forward with inhuman speed, ducking once impossibly to avoid the shots taken at him. I heard the loud "SNAP!" and then I noticed the last guard swinging on Wesker, his laser pointer aimed right at his temple. I didn't hesitate to fire, three shots, two low, one a little left of where I'd intended to put it. The man I had shot fell backwards, his brains spattering out across the wall behind him. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and I looked at Wesker only to see him staring at me.

"Impressive, my dear." His eyebrow was arched upward, a small smirk touched his lips, before he opened the door in front of him. I followed, not concerned with more ammo. I'd taken five clips off of the first guard, and had yet to fire a single round from that gun. I still had nine rounds in my handgun; counting rounds was second nature to me.

The room we entered was enormous; an airplane hanger. Heat pressed in on me, and I heard the computer's monotone ring out again, making me jump.

"One minute until detonation. Please report to the upper platform. Repeat, Please report to the upper platform." Red flashed in my eyes, and I realized that someone was dotting me; I rolled quickly before the first shots rained down on my head. I could feel the heat and wind from the bullets as they whizzed past my ear; a narrow escape. I came up from my roll in a kneeling position, took aim at the mercenary standing on a higher platform, and fired twice, nailing him neatly in the head both times. Forty yards, maybe forty five. Still a far piece for the 9mm. I smiled briefly, pleased with myself. Wesker reloaded his gun, then we were trotting to a tarp covered car; He pulled the cover off it in a flourish, and I whistled low at the shiny black 1969 Dodge Charger; the car that I'd always wanted but could never afford on my salary. Throwing himself over the hood, he clamored into the car, and gestured for me to do the same. I did so eagerly.

He flipped the visor down, spilling a key into his waiting hand, and then fired up the engine; it's roar echoing throughout the otherwise empty hanger. I smiled. Crazy situation or not, I couldn't help but appreciate this car.

The hanger door came up slowly, and I could see the impatience on Wesker's face. I laid my hand on his leg, and he gazed at me with open appreciation for the distraction. Winking, he turned his eyes back to the exit, slammed the Charger into gear, and then we were racing along the runway; shot's ringing out; a steady _rat-a-tat-tat! _ I rolled down the window, and fired back with the submachine gun, winging at least two of the bastards, before we were out of range; barreling along a road now.

Wesker chuckled low in his throat, changing gears again, the Charger roaring beautifully as it went ever faster.

"That was rather impressive, dear heart." Wesker commented, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that he had pulled out of the glove box. "Who taught you?"

"My brother, and Leon. They wouldn't let me go on any real missions until they had 'properly' trained me. Didn't take me long; I mean, what's so hard about point and spray?" I replied, staring out the window at the passing desert landscape. "So where to next?"

"Motel, hotel; somewhere off the radar for a few days. Am I going to have to worry about any escape plans, Miss Redfield?" Wesker asked, and I turned my head to look at him.

"No...what's the point now? People are trying to kill me, and while Chris could and would help me, I can't trust that he'll be safe. You have a few advantages over my brother; physically. I think it may be in my best interest to stay close to you. But I wouldn't sleep to soundly; I've been known to get antsy." I meant these words. I spoke plainly, my heart tearing and bleeding as my decision rolled off my tongue. I couldn't bring my brother into this; and no way was I going to drag Leon or the others into this mess, either. This was going to be me, flying solo.

Well, maybe not solo. I glanced at Wesker out of the corner of my eye, trying my best to do it slyly; I could tell it didn't work when he smirked at me crookedly.

"Good." he replied, and then we drove on in silence, the road curving and winding through the foothills of a mountain. Where were we? I wondered.

It seemed we drove forever; I closed my eyes; the adrenaline that had coursed through my bloodstream earlier had drained me. Just a quick nap.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Wesker was absorbed in his driving, but wasn't surprised to look over and find Claire asleep. While he had little use for sleep, rest, or food, he knew that she required all three; a minor annoyance to him. It would slow him down; again he cursed those imbeciles who had thought to take his life's work from him. He should have heard them coming sooner. Normally, whenever a rival team would arrive, he would be long gone.

Claire was a liability and a distraction; however necessary. He needed to find a new base of operations, something different than his usual ones. If they had found his Nevada base, then what exactly would stop them from tracking him down to Spain, or even his facility in Greenland?

No, he needed something that had been out of use for awhile, something that wasn't attached to his usual research. He pondered over it; and then it hit him. The base in Cairo. That facility had been devoted to breeding; a failed project that the morons at Tri-Cell had quickly abandoned when the T-Virus became too unstable and volatile in the offspring; causing rampant mutations and, eventually, the total annihilation of the staff there. It had been closed for over five years now, maybe even six. And if he remembered right, the lead researcher there had an entire wing that was his own; with a laboratory ajorning his bed chamber. Something he wouldn't be needing in his current condition; the dead needed nothing.

He dialed a number on his phone, and speaking tersely, made the arrangements for it's re-opening and a private jet to Cairo. The woman on the phone asked him no questions; telling him that it would be forty-eight hours before everything would be ready. Two days. Wesker frowned, but didn't argue. He would just use that time wisely, trying to impregnate his captive.

But who was really the captive here? He glanced over at Claire's sleeping face, his heart constricting painfully. He'd have to leave her soon; business called. The thought upset him more than it should. Wesker was disturbed by his growing dependence on the girl. Yet, he knew he'd be more upset still if anything came between them.

He drove until the gas gage was almost on E, and spotting a Marathon ahead, he pulled into it's parking lot. After filling up the tank, he filled the gas can in his trunk, and went in to pay. He grabbed some pre-made sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, bottled water, pop, and anything else that Claire might need for the road, including a couple magazines he found on the rack. Darkness was beginning to fall overhead, and he dumped his purchases, minus the reading material, into the newly acquired cooler with a big bag of ice. That he carefully loaded into the back seat of his favorite car; the blood red interior was spotless, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Wesker?" Claire sounded groggy, and he closed the door behind him, passing her the magazines and a bottle of Pepsi. She took the items without a word, and cracked open the pop, taking a long swig. He started the engine.

"We'll be leaving for Egypt in two days." He informed her.

"Egypt? Where are we now?" Claire asked him.

"Just outside of Reno. That was my first stop today." Wesker answered her.

"Do you want me to drive for a while? So you can rest?" Her voice sounded almost....hopeful. He arched a brow, and shook his head in negation; no one drove his Charger.

"Dear heart, I do not require rest. The virus in my system heals my body; sleep is a luxury, not a necessity." They passed a road sign, too fast to read it, and he watched her eying the speedometer. They were barreling down the road at 85 mph; not that fast for him. He smirked when she buckled her seat belt. "Do you want me to slow down, dear heart? I don't want to scare you."

"No. But if you do hit something, make sure it's hard enough to kill me; or you'll pay for it later." Claire smiled at him, chugging down the rest of the Pepsi. He chuckled at that.

After a while, she touched the radio dial, searching through the stations until she found one. Some rock band; he wasn't much one to listen to anything newer than classical, but he found that he liked this song.

"Who is this?" He asked her.

"Slipknot. I think the song's called 'Duality'. They're one of my favorites." Claire shared, staring out the window. Neither of them spoke for a while, until Claire suddenly asked, "When you found me that night, why were there zombies?"

"The bio-weapons? That was an accident; Tri-Cell was carting a shipment of virus samples, and the man in that car was their mule. The best that anyone could figure, he swerved to miss an animal. Beyond him and the cop, no one else was infected." Wesker answered.

"Tri-Cell's got the virus?"

"T-Virus, G-Virus, the Los Plagas, and the T-Veronica virus. It's all inconsequential now. I've created something far better, far superior. Something to end all suffering; all wars. Something to usher us into a new era." Wesker looked at her for a reaction. Her face was a careful mask, unreadable.

I shuddered as his sentence came to a close.

"New era? How many lives will that end? How much is enough for you?" I whispered out sadly, looking at him. Outside the car, night had enveloped us totally, and yet, Wesker still wore his omni-present sunglasses.

"When there is no more pain, no more needless dying; then the world will be perfect; it's people no longer will be at war, no longer will the homeless starve, no more children suffering. No price could be too high for that, dear heart. A few million people out of the world, the dead ends of civilization no longer wanted or needed. A high price, I admit, but one I'm willing, nay, obligated to pay."

"You've got a few screws loose up here, don't you?" I asked, tapping his head lightly to emphasis my point. "Who died and made you god?"

"I did." His voice was cold, I could see his jaw clenching, the harsh lines of his face pulled back almost in a grimace. "I died. And when I awoke from death's icy clasp, I was as God. I am as God. Only those capable of being a god shall be, and I will bring about great change. It is my life's work; to end everything bad in the world. It's narrow-minded people like you and your brother who can't see the forest in spite of the tree."

"Wesker, that's insanity."

"I've never claimed to be completely sane, dear heart. They say that the line between genius and insanity is a thin one; and let me tell you, it's easy to cross. Am I insane? That's subjective. Is it really that crazy to want to end all suffering?"

"No. But why do so many people have to die?"

"It's naive of you to think that there isn't a price for perfection." Wesker pulled into the parking lot of a hotel, and slammed the car into park angrily.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I asked, anger seeping into my tone. He was being stubborn, not listening to reason.

"Because, Dear Heart," He said, emphasizing the endearment, "You are whom I have chosen to stand by my side in this new dawn."

I was speechless. He opened his door, and stepped out. I followed suit, and there was silence between us as he checked us in. The hotel was clean, but old; and the room had a light musky smell to it. The door was barely closed behind him when he turned to me, catching me up in his powerful arms. His lips slammed down on mine, and despite my anger (or maybe because of it), I returned his kiss; we tumbled onto the bed ungracefully, me on top of him. I pulled my shirt over my head and his fingers made quick work of the bra.

Wesker's large hands came up to cup my breasts, his thumbs flicking over the sensitive nipples; I moaned low, grinding my hips against his. His reasons for this were sick, twisted; Wesker was stark raving mad. But I couldn't resist his touches.

I pulled desperately at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. His hair, usually so organized, was spilling down, the ends covering his eyes, and I ran my hand though the jell-stiffened strands, kissing him tenderly. Leaning down, I traced a line down his chest with my lips, running my hands across his ribcage lightly; before trailing lower. He was propped up on his elbows, staring heatedly down at me, and I smiled at him wickedly before unzipping his fly and taking his stiff cock into my mouth, eliciting a loud moan from him.

His large hand came to the back of my head, grabbing my hair out of my face and holding it back. I worked my tongue over the tip, before slowly sliding my mouth over his erection again; I bobbed my head fast at first, then slowly; switching pace. I felt myself getting wetter and wetter with every moan I wrung from him, and I felt his hips come up, burying his cock deep in my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. Ignoring it, I increased my pace, using my hands to rub the base of his cock; Wesker's back arched, and I felt his hot cum hit the back of my throat; I swallowed reflexively.

Growling, he flipped me effortlessly onto my back, and kissed me roughly, his fingers sliding into my hot opening, rubbing against my clit hard, making me gasp. I bucked shamelessly against him, and it wasn't long before I felt his cock teasing against my opening.

"Please!" I begged, and he buried himself to the hilt in my pussy. His hips slammed into mine painfully, this wasn't gentle; A tear slid down my face from the pain he was causing me. Wesker's hands cupped my ass as he rammed into me, making me cry out in a strange mixture of hurt and pleasure, and I tore at his back with my nails.

A hiss broke through his lips at that, and he leaned down to take my nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at it; his tongue tracing a path to the next one, all the while fucking me brutally.

"Oh, yeah, baby! You like it?" His voice was raspy, and I felt my climax rising.

"Ooh, yes! Harder, fuck me harder!" I begged, and he obliged me, the bed beneath us shaking and squeaking from the strain. I bit him, clawed him, kissed him; and then I felt his hot seed enter me just as my world shattered into a million pieces as I came, lights flickering in the corners of my vision. His teeth were bared, the muscles in his neck taut; a guttural growl escaping his throat. He collapsed on me, our sweat intermingling, our breathing torrid and uneven. It was a while before he moved off of me, and I instantly missed his heat; the room chilled.

"Claire?" Wesker whispered, his eyes on my face. I stared into his strange eyes, my own eyes feeling leaden.

"Hmm?" I asked sleepily.

"Have you ever been in love?" A hint of a blush graced his pale cheeks, and I wondered what exactly he was getting at.

"No." I answered.

"So you wouldn't know what that felt like?" He asked. My curiosity peaked, I leaned up on one elbow, matching his posture.

"No, I wouldn't really."

"Oh." Then after a moment, he whispered even lower than before. "I think I might be falling in love with you, Claire."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

He waited patiently, watching her face raptly as the claim he had just made sunk into her brain. Love was foreign to him; he didn't know if it was true. He didn't care if it was. She needed to believe it, and he needed her to believe it.

Wesker felt _something _for Claire; he just wasn't sure what exactly it was. Labeling it had been for her benefit. Perhaps he was fond of her, he'd admit to that. She was beautiful, smart, and an absolute tigress in bed; everything about her turned him on. Yet, Wesker was a consummate scientist; his mind never shutting down. He knew the importance that a female placed on feelings, knew that if he implanted the suggestion of love, that she would more than likely fall into his arms all the more willingly.

"I-I don't..." She started, but he cut her off with a passionate kiss; drawing her lips into a sweet embrace with his own. Claire melted against him, bringing her hands up to cup his face, and his heart thumped erratically against his ribcage.

Wesker pulled back slowly, staring into her gray-blue-violet eyes.

"You don't have to say anything. I know you don't feel the same." Planting doubt in her mind; reverse psychology. "It's strange. I captured you, only to have you ensnare me right back." Wesker pulled her into his arms, laying on his back. She snuggled close to him, and her scent wafted up to him; sweet and so much like flowers.

"You love me?" Claire's voice was faint, disbelieving.

"I do." He sensed his own sincerity in the answer; it was odd. Perhaps his claim had some validity to it. He processed that information, silently analyzing the thoughts that were racing through his head.

"I'm sorry that I don't love you." The words stung him unexpectedly. The heart in his chest constricted painfully; more painfully than it ever had before.

Wesker was silent, that would be his answer. He released his grip on her, turning over in the bed to face away from her, suddenly feeling out of control and more lonely than he was usually.

"Albert..." Claire whispered. She had used his first name.

"Go to sleep, woman. We have a long day ahead of us." His voice was cold.

I stared at his muscular back brokenheartedly, feeling as though I had wronged him. Had I hurt his feelings?

Wesker had feelings. The concept was entirely new to me, unbelievable. This had to be a ploy; and yet, somehow, I couldn't shake the suspicion that he was being honest with me. Maybe more honest than he knew.

Could he really love me? I had my doubts; this was a man who killed indiscriminately for his own personal gain, someone who I half expected to be able to kill his own mother just to get ahead. But maybe, just maybe, some shred of humanity was left in him. Perhaps I was judging him too harshly.

I reached out to touch his shoulder, only to feel him stiffen underneath my fingertips. As warm as his body was, the coldness of his reaction hurt me, sent shivers running down my spine. Sighing, I kissed his neck, trying to apologize with my body what my mouth could not say. Wesker's muscles loosened slightly, but he seemed bound and determined to ignore me.

Love. The memory of his eyes boring into mine when he had said that word came rushing back to me, and I felt sadness pressing in on me. My feelings for him; what little there was, I could never voice aloud; would never. When he touched me, I couldn't say no. But my head still was dealing with it's own demons. I ran my hand down his arm, trying to give him comfort. It was all I could do; I wouldn't lie to him.

I didn't love him.

Not yet.

"I don't love you, and I won't lie, Wesker. I like you, against my better judgment; despite all of the things you've done to me and mine. You've been honest with me so far as I know, and I believe you." I paused, kissing his cheek gently. "I still haven't forgiven you for Rockfort Island, you know. For Steve."

"Burnside?" Wesker's interest seemed peaked.

"Yeah." At that, Wesker turned, his face inches from my own. His scent came smashing across my face, almost making me forget about...well, whatever we had been talking about. I shook my head, feeling dazed.

"I was unable to revive him totally." I sensed him holding back some crucial piece of information.

"Totally?"

"The mutation was far too advanced; the T-Veronica virus had become unstable; the strain useless. The project was scrapped." Wesker's voice was methodical, sounding as if he were reading a text book aloud.

"Oh." That saddened me. Steve Burnside had saved my life, more than once. Steve Burnside was the only other human being besides my brother who had ever loved me. And now, Steve Burnside was dead; the small hope that Wesker himself had impregnated into my brain squashed in a single sentence. "It wasn't...painful?"

"No." Wesker answered simply, stroking my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "Did you care for him?"

"He was a good friend. Just like Leon; he was there for me when things got really bad." Tears were welling up in my eyes. Wesker pulled me against his chest once more, kissing the top of my head lightly.

"Don't cry, dear heart. The past is behind us now."

He held me as I sobbed, and the last thing I remember before sleep invaded my senses was him humming a tune lightly, the song we had danced to the first night we had slept together.

Wesker stared at the sleeping form in his arms, Beethoven's 5th symphony still echoing in his head even as he had stopped humming it. Repositioning himself on his back, Wesker mulled over her words earlier, Claire's apology. His reaction to those words was dumbfounding. Pain hadn't registered itself in his brain in almost a decade; yet, it still felt as if his heart was bleeding into his chest, filling it up with a fluid that was nearly choking him.

The dramatics were absolutely unnecessary. This wasn't like him at all. He'd have to get a hold on his rampant libido, rein this attraction in. He frowned unhappily; he was acting as if she were a bitch in heat. The mention of that _boy _from Rockfort had made a red-hot veil of anger flash across his vision; an emotion that he had been familiar with his whole life: Jealousy. Another unwanted complication.

Still, the mind-numbing sex was a bonus. Their last bout had been exceptionally delicious; he felt himself growing hard at the memory.

Something was happening to him. Wesker sighed; this would require more tests; which would have to wait until they had arrived at the Cairo facility. He smiled.

Then he could focus on his primary objective: primitive insemination.

Reviewerique...this chapter is dedicated to you. Thank you for spoiling the next chapter...LOL, JK buddy! Love you really! I love all the people who are reading this! You are all my inspiration.! Review if you like or have any grammar/spelling suggestions.

My personal experience of the Resident Evil game series has been that Wesker DOES have feelings. He is only human, after all. Perhaps genetically superior in a way that none of us could ever understand; seeing as how we are not all perfect...but he wants to create a better world...and who wouldn't commend that? Even if it's sick and demented, he has a global way of thinking.

Just some food for thought, readers.

The Eskimo =)

P.S.-Sorry this is so short.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I awoke to Wesker's soft caresses; the faint pinks of the coming day seeping into the room from behind the thick green curtains of the hotel room. He pleasured me sweetly, slowly; his eyes staring into mine; making me feel as if he were trying to look into my very thoughts. We came together, and he pulled me to his chest in a tight embrace, kissing my mouth as if he needed me like he needed air.

We lay there, our bodies still tangled, just clinging to each other; and I wished with all of my heart that things had been different; that Umbrella had never dabbled in viral weaponry; or that Wesker had ever been a part of it. I wished that I could have known him before the tragedy in Raccoon City.

After a long time, he pulled himself out and away from me. The desert air was already pressing in on us, making the air thick and dry. I stretched languidly, the sheets twisting underneath my back. He dressed, and putting his sunglasses across the bridge of his nose, Wesker turned to me.

"I'm only going to the car to get some food for you. Don't get too far, dear heart; I'd hate to have to come and find you. I suspect it would only make me angry." his voice was cold as a glacier. His posture spoke of anger; spine pencil straight, shoulders squared, jaw clenched, brow furrowed above his shades. A totally different persona than the one that had awoken me.

My temper flared, and I snorted impatiently. Sitting up, I dressed moodily. I wasn't aware that he had left the room until I turned around, finding no one.

I cried then. I wished my brother was here. Or Leon. It was then that I found myself wrapped up in Wesker's arms, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered reassuringly to me. I was so mad at him; and more angry with myself. I could have been cold towards him; resisted till he killed me. It's what I should have done; being a strong Redfield.

"Let me go." I begged. He just held me, kissing me gently. I felt as if I were breaking inside. My heart was breaking. I didn't want to be here, and yet, the thought of leaving him was tearing me apart. I was falling in love with him; the situation totally hopeless. So what if we loved each other? It would never be enough. Wesker and I were just far too different; we were sworn enemies.

"I love you, Claire." Wesker's lips found my own, and I felt myself give in to his advances; moaning into his mouth as I deepened the kiss. I couldn't voice my feelings aloud, my pride wouldn't let me. All of the hurt, all of the pain and all of the tender feelings that I had bubbling inside of me came crashing out into my kiss; I would love him silently.

"Make me love you." I challenged. He growled low in his throat as he flipped me onto my stomach. I found my pants being yanked roughly down around my ankles, felt his hands skimming over my flesh. He bit my earlobe cruelly; I cried out as he entered me from behind. Tears stung in my vision as he rutted with me, his hand on the back of my shoulder, holding me down as he slammed his hips forcefully into mine. I screamed his name out, my climax surprising me, and I felt him tense, heard the groan that rushed out of his lips with my name; felt as his hot juices rushed into my waiting womb.

Although my lids drooped down low from exhaustion, Wesker didn't stop; instead, he kept moving inside of me, bringing me up to a kneeling position against his rock hard chest. His hands held me upright, fingers kneading my breasts gently, making me moan and bring up my hand to cup his neck. His lips were hot against my skin, burning a trail down my neck, over my shoulder, where his teeth sunk in teasingly, his nails playing over my ribcage.

Wesker made love to me until the middle of the day, taking only a few short breaks, before I couldn't keep my eyes open, slipping into a sex-coma.

Wesker sat on a chair in the corner of the room, typing rapidly on his laptop. Uroboros was entering it's final test stages; and looking very promising indeed.

A cage clanging in the corner of the room drew his attention; he'd been out to the pet store earlier. Two rabbits, snow white and pink eyed, sat in the cage he had purchased at the same store. One kept thumping it's leg on the wire, becoming a nuisance. That one would be the first up to his little experiment.

"Claire." He gently nudged her, smiling as she mumbled something that sounded like, "Fife mo minutes."

Shaking her shoulders, she finally stirred.

"What?" Her hair was wild, curling at the edges slightly, and tangled beyond what he would have thought possible.

"Extend your arm, I require a blood sample." She looked at him quizzically, but gave him her arm willingly. He watched her wince as he slowly drew a sample from her vein.

"Why do you need that?" Claire asked, curiosity getting the better of her. He smiled slightly, and nodded his head in the direction of the rabbits.

"We're going to see if you are pregnant yet or not. The more conventional methods are too slow to find out, and with the virus in my system, it very may well destroy the fetus without proper precautions. The rabbit trick has been around for centuries; and it's accurate. So I'll administer your blood into it's system; and wait a few hours. If the rabbit lives, then we have much more work to do. If not, then we have been successful." Wesker explained, rising from the bed to open the cage. He pulled out the thumper, and tented the skin at the nape of it's chubby neck, pushing the needle into it and pressing the plunger down with a smirk.

Claire held out her hands, looking at Wesker as he held the poor rabbit up by it's nape, it's legs pinwheeling to the side as it tried desperately to get away. He deposited the pathetic creature into her arms, ignoring her glare.

"Couldn't you have waited until we got to where we were going? I'd hate to think that this cute little bunny died because of me." Claire said, petting the rabbit gently.

"Dear heart, I apologize if my methods shock you, but this has been the most accurate and quickest way to test for a pregnancy, and it is the same way I would check it at the lab where we're going." He paused, sitting on the edge of the bed lightly. "Rabbits breed so rapidly, that it's hardly felt by the population, I assure you."

"But doesn't the rabbit know? Can't they feel it?" Somehow he sensed they weren't talking about rabbits anymore. She still hadn't forgotten their conversation the day before.

"Not anymore than you would feel if someone far away shot you in the head. The hormones in a pregnant woman cause the rabbit's system to slip into shock. It's like falling into a heavy sleep for them." Wesker reached out and stroked the rabbit's nose gently, his eyes falling on it with disinterest.

It was then that the rabbit quit breathing; it's legs jackhammering as if it were running; the mouth foaming and a high-pitched squealing issuing from it's throat. Claire's face plummeted, her hands busily trying to soothe the dying rabbit, but the animal was already in it's death throes; beyond her touches or her help. Wesker smirked; right on schedule.

"That was quick." Wesker scooped the corpse up, and dumped it carelessly in the trashcan by the door. Claire's face was still shocked; but she was more composed than a few moments ago; the information that the rabbit provided sinking in.

"You lied. That wasn't painless." Claire's voice was angry.

"I didn't lie, dear heart. It was already going brain dead shortly after I injected it. For some reason, the hormone in your system seems to be through the roof; at least three times more potent than what it's supposed to be."

"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"

"That means, dear heart, that even though your body is trying to kill the fetus that lives within you, the fetus has it's own defenses in line; although that amount of hormones can't be good for your system. I may have to inject you sooner than I'd planned, and that in itself could be dangerous." He pulled a pocket flashlight out, and flashed it in front of her eyes, going from right to left, left to right slowly, gaging her reactions. "How are you feeling? Any nausea? Dizziness? Rested? Tired?"

"I'm a little sick at the way that rabbit just died. And your inability to care." Claire stubbornly crossed her arms, staring at him as if she wished him to catch on fire spontaneously.

"Emotional; but that's normal. I wish that we had the lab here. I need to know how much serum to give you; guessing could be absolutely lethal."

"Then don't give me any serum."

"That too, dear heart, could kill you. We are in a catch 22, it would seem. Give you the serum, and I may cause you to slip into shock, depending on how your system deals with it after the fetus. Don't give you the serum, and watch as your condition deteriorates; too much of that hormone for too long can make you very ill; and lead to death if left untreated. Again, the only thing I can do is give you a low dose of the serum, and hope for the best." Wesker pulled out a syringe from his briefcase, and looking over his own chart, adjusted the dose for his own personal serum; PG67/A/W to meet Claire's needs....he hoped. It was necessary; whether or not she knew it, Claire's life was in danger. The fetus, not being totally human, made her body kick into overdrive to eject it. But also, not being human, the fetus' defenses would eventually kill the mother.

Theoretically.

He injected her in the neck; and her lips pursed into a thin line as the burning sensations began; he knew the feeling well. Disposing of the used needle, he jotted down a few notes to transfer to his computer later, and took her pulse, carefully counting out the beats. Normal so far. Claire's condition would have to be monitored constantly until he could get her into a stable environment.

Just 21 more hours, and they'd be on a plane to Cairo. On their way to safety. Worry furrowed his brow for the first time since his rebirth; he kissed her lips gently, hoping that she survived the next few hours.

"I love you, Claire Redfield." He said, wholeheartedly knowing that he meant it. Should she live, she'd be giving him the ultimate gift. A child with his own genetic makeup. He watched sadly as her eyelids drooped suddenly, and unconsciousness claimed her. He checked her pulse again; still not in the danger level. That was good; it meant that her body was processing the serum; it wasn't causing her to go into shock. However, he noticed a slight spike in her temperature. Frowning, he felt across her forehead.

Impossible! The virus sample in the serum was dead, only put in there to keep his own immune system top shape so that the Progenitor virus wouldn't mutate him. It couldn't be viable. His heart beat fast as he realized that her immune system may not be as strong as he had previously known it to be; the child must be taking a bigger toll on her than she let on.

He may very well have just infected her.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Somewhere in the streets of Washington D.C.:

"Claire, pick up your freaking phone!!!" Leon spat into his cell phone exasperatedly, feeling like shaking the damn thing. It was the eighth time he'd tried to call her house, and the sixth time he'd tried her mobile. Nothing; just the answering machine. It was unlike Claire to ignore his calls for this long. He hung up, and dialed her brother's phone number.

"Redfield." Chris' voice answered.

"Chris, have you seen your sister?" Leon rushed out, avoiding the push of bodies around him as he juggled the phone and his briefcase; on his way to the office for his latest field report.

"No, I haven't. I tried calling her yesterday, but she wasn't home."

"I've been trying to get a hold of her for two days now; frankly, I'm worried." Leon nearly dropped his briefcase as he stumbled over his shoelace, bouncing off of random people in the crowd. He hated D.C.; the place was an absolute madhouse. His feet found their footing, and he made his way up the steps to the office building.

"Where are you, Leon?"

"Just getting to the office. You here?" Static started to build up as Leon walked into the building, and he stopped just before security. He reached under his suit jacket, and pulled out his sidearm, and he muttered a rushed, "Hold on, security check.", before setting his phone along with his gun into the basket. He flashed his badge, and as soon as he got to the other side of the gate, he snatched his gun and phone up.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm at your debriefing, actually. You're late."

"I know, I know. I'm en route." Leon was beginning to get winded; he jogged to the elevator and hit the call button; tapping his feet impatiently.

"We'll talk after the meeting, alright?" Chris promised, before hanging up. Leon nearly crowed with delight when the elevator in front of him dinged and opened; he nearly threw himself into it; tardiness wasn't looked upon lightly.

After a very boring debriefing on his latest mission in Peru, Chris approached Leon, hand held out. Leon took it, shaking the proffered hand.

"So why the worry?" Chris had started moving, so Leon followed suit, his long legs barely keeping pace with the giant of a man named Christopher Redfield. Where Claire was small and dainty, her older brother was a complete behemoth, muscles topping muscles on his tall frame. The only thing that gave them away as siblings were their noses and their eyes; not the color, but the set and shape.

"She hasn't answered my calls." Leon said.

"And she hasn't answered mine either. But I'm not falling apart. Claire has our father's wander lust; the open road probably called to her." Chris said, looking amused.

"Impossible, sir." Leon said.

"How so, Leon?" Chris' pace slowed, and he looked down at Leon curiously.

"Because, sir." Leon stopped, gathering courage. "Her and I were supposed to go to Australia. Together." It took a moment for the words to sink in with Chris, but when it did, Leon didn't get the beating he had thought was coming.

"Good for you, man!" Chris smiled at him cheerfully, clapping his hand on Leon's shoulder in a friendly manner. It still stung. "Just be careful with my sis." His eyes turned an icy blue color, gazing down into Leon's pale gray orbs with just the hint of a warning, before Leon blinked and the look was gone, replaced with a too-wide grin.

"Always am, Chris." Leon wanted to change the subject; quickly.

"Well, how do you know she didn't back out on you? Claire hates airplanes. She might have gone riding, you never know." Chris suggested; although Leon could see the lights almost clicking on in his vision; kind of like when a cartoon would get an idea and a light bulb flashed to life over it's head. "Have you been to her place?"

"Twice, sir." Leon's eyes met Chris', and both men could tell what the other one was thinking. Wordlessly, they hurried down the halls of the B.S.A.A. Building, intent on the exit.

Wesker had Claire stabilized; rigging together a small field kit from some of the supplies he had acquired during his earlier sojourn into the small town. A meat injector kit, some rubber tubing from the hardware, and a few bottles of water mixed with salt provided a saline drip, and to that solution, every hour on the hour, he injected Claire again with another dose of the serum. He had to keep her from mutating, and the only real way to do that was to keep a steady stream of serum running into her system. Her fever had spiked horribly, and her small frame tossed and turned restlessly on the hotel bed for hours until finally he gave her a mild sedative, though that only gave him about an hour's time to contact H.Q.; and get a rush put on the Cairo center. Twelve hours; six more hours before they had to be at the small airport in town for their first transport.

The five hour plane ride would be the hardest; with two stops before they got to Egypt. Still, he was confident in his ability to keep her alive. Wesker was a brilliant scientist; as close to God as one could get. He would be God to so many in just a few months time. That thought kept him from going insane right now; his heart was hammering worriedly in his chest. Claire couldn't die; he wouldn't allow it. Wesker felt the icy fingers of fear leeching down his spine; and suddenly hated this new-found weakness.

A dark rage filled his vision, and before he could control the outburst, the bedside lamp flew off it's cradle and erupted on the door, shattering into a thousand sharp pieces. Wesker stared at the ruined lamp, his eyes mere slits on his face; his breathing was coming in sharp gasps, and he realized that he was making a low guttural growling noise. Indulging himself in his rage, he picked up a vase, and threw it at the door. It exploded against the hard frame, and he smiled at this willful destruction.

He hadn't exhibited this type of behavior since he had been a small child. But it felt good. The exercise in futility was grounding, and he felt more level; more in control.

Thinking more clearly now, his mind began turning over the possible solutions to Claire's condition. There was nothing to stop the virus; well, almost nothing. The Progenitor virus needed proper incubation time; a stable environment in which to bond with the normal cells. It was why he required the injections. If he could keep her in stasis; perhaps in one of those water filled wombs that were used for the Tyrant...

That was her only hope. He glanced at Claire, his heart seeming to break worse than the lamp and vase had. There were no illusions now; he knew that he loved her. And it was far too late for him. Her incubation period would be a long one; overshadowing the Uroboros project. Their time had run out. Wesker's brain began working into overtime; making contingency plans in the unlikely case that Uroboros was scrapped, or worse yet, stopped.

He dialed H.Q.; and ordered for Jill Valentine to be transported to Cairo. She would be programmed to find Claire in the unlikely event of his own death.

Jill.

Jill would make sure Claire was safe. Jill Valentine would be his back up plan. He placed another call, this one to his old friend Barry Burton. He said two words when the older man picked up the phone.

"Jill's alive."

Let the chips fall where they may. Wesker had done all that he could.

Chris' cell phone was ringing again; he picked up as he paced on Claire's front porch in agitation.

"Redfield."

"Chris, I just got a really weird phone call." It was Barry, who was now retired and living in a small town located just outside of Dallas, Texas. Something about his tone stopped Chris in his tracks; something was obviously worrying the retired S.T.A.R.S. Officer.

"What is it, Bear?"

"Someone just called my house. Only said two words to me; 'Jill's alive'; exact words. What do you make of it?" Barry seemed frantic, the words coming out in a rush.

"Jill's alive? Barry, I saw her go out that window." Chris wasn't quite buying it.

"No body, though." was the reply; Chris' head was spinning. Jill. "I figured you should be the first one to hear it; I'm calling the B.S.A.A.; soon as I'm finished talking to you."

"I'm glad you did call. I'll have to check up on it, see if I can't get any leads. If Jill is alive, I'll find her, Barry." Chris paused. "Claire hasn't contacted you lately, has she?"

Barry and Claire had been close; drinking buddies until Barry's wife had put a stop to it. That little blonde firecracker Barry was so in love with had quite the jealous streak in her. Chris knew his sister didn't have any feelings for the old man, Claire just had always been able to out-drink most of the Alpha team, and Barry loved the competition.

"No, Chris, I haven't. She take off again?"

"Looks like it; but something about this trip seems fishy. It's been over two days now..." Chris was cut off by Barry.

"That rookie buggin' you about her, isn't he? Claire told me about him."

"Yeah; seems like I was the last one to know." Chris frowned at Leon, who looked away cowed. "How long?"

"Well, last time I talked to your sister was a month ago, and all she could seem to talk about was how that rookie's been trying to land a date with her." Barry reported cheerfully. Chris was grinding his teeth together, envisioning all of the horrible tortures that Kennedy would suffer in the near future.

"Thanks for the Intel, Barry. I'll catch up with you later."

"Alright, Chris. Let me know if you find out anything about Jill or you little sis."

"Will do. Take care, Barry." Chris hung up. He pointed at Leon, giving the smaller man a leveling stare. "You and I need to talk."

Leon gulped.

Claire was dreaming. Cold and alone, she walked through a desert landscape, snow impossibly blowing a steady stream into her face, crowding her senses. Her teeth chattered here; there was no end in sight. That didn't matter, however. She was searching for something; someone.

His voice called out to her; musical in the swirling darkness around her, and she turned around hopelessly; unable to pinpoint it's source. Claire screamed soundlessly; no matter how hard she screamed, there was no sound.

"Claire." Wesker's voice sounded so close; she reached into the wind, coming back with nothing. "Claire, I love you."

"I love you too!!!" Claire's voice failed her, and she tore at her hair helplessly.

"I love you! I love you too!!!" Claire was delusional, her teeth chattering inside her skull, and she kept chanting that line hoarsely. Wesker brushed her hair out of her face, before returning his attention to driving; they were on their way to the airport. He wondered absently who she was seeing in her hallucination; jealousy coursing through his veins.

He had placed many calls this afternoon; carefully placing evidence to lay credence to Jill's reappearance. Chris had been one of Wesker's best men; he knew that his former subordinate would figure it out. What a reunion that would be; Wesker smiled wickedly.

Claire was still mouthing something he couldn't make out; and he thought about why he had chosen her.

On Rockfort Island, when he had snatched her from her brother, Wesker had managed to stick Claire with a needle, drawing blood for a test; just something he had been curious about, really. He had wanted to know if she had been infected; perhaps she would be useful to him in the coming months. Much to his surprise, her DNA had contained a rare genetic marker; the same marker that had allowed his own blood to fuse with the virus he had injected himself with at the Spencer estate in Raccoon City. Chris probably had the same genetic fluke; if he could have picked a nemesis, he doubted he would have been able to top Chris.

It grated his nerves, Christoper Redfield was in every way his good half; the yin to his yang. And just a general pain in his ass. In fact, he didn't doubt that Chris would somehow get assigned to the investigation that would probably become necessary at his current human experiments in Africa. That son of a bitch had to have either the worst luck in the world, or the best; depending on how you were perceiving it, Wesker mused.

Turning onto the gravel path that led to their evac helicopter, Wesker's phone beeped quietly in his jacket pocket. He answered it.

"Sir, Redfield and Kennedy have taken the bait. They just left the B.S.A.A. Office in a hurry; and our records indicate that Burton has already contacted Redfield with the information. Last known whereabouts of the two was twenty minutes ago; they were at Claire Redfield's residence."

"Good. Keep tracking them; I don't want any surprises. I want to be contacted immediately if they leave the U.S." Wesker flipped his phone down, face stoic.

He turned the ignition off, and two men in tactical gear approached the Charger. He lifted Claire out of her seat, and carried her with him to the waiting stretcher.

"Soon, love. We'll be together soon." Wesker whispered into her ear; it would be months; and if all went well, Uroboros would have already been implemented; and his rule complete. Claire would be his queen.

Wesker thought absently of Excella; and he hoped feverently that she would be unworthy of Uroboros. That bitch was downright annoying; drooling over him shamelessly. His fought the urge to curl his lips up in a display of disgust at the memory of the African whore.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"I expected more of a challenge after all this time, Chris. How disappointing." Jill watched from the shadows; lurking. She had become something that she hated; and now she realized Wesker's purpose. Screaming inwardly, Jill fought for control over her body. Wesker became distracted, however, as his infernal cell phone blipped in his pocket. Her eyes darted towards the movement, before returning to her quarry.

She wanted to reach out and touch his face, let him hold her in those overly big arms of his; god, but she didn't remember him being so damn huge! Chris and Sheva, his new partner, raced up the staircase, and she felt her body silently slip from the balcony, her feet making no sound as she stalked around behind the pair of B.S.A.A. Officers. Her whole being tried to vocalize a warning, her lips parted, but no sound was issued. Jill took heart in that small gesture; anything was a victory under these overwhelming odds.

"Wesker! Stop!" Both agents had their guns pointed at Wesker; in direct violation of her main objective; well, the programmed objectives, anyway. Her feet suddenly were flying under her, and Jill felt dizzy as her heels lifted off the ground; Sheva's reflexes were quick, but unfortunately not quick enough. Her sidearm went flying, and even as Jill struggled against the hold that the serum had on her, her body, of seemingly it's own directive, completed a three-sixty roundhouse kick to Sheva's face that even Chuck Norris would have been proud of. Before Jill could really have time to think further, her hands were grabbing Chris' wrist, twisting it.

Her fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him slightly backwards, and auto-pilot Jill did a back flip, never releasing her grip on Chris' forearm; he hit the dirt and then Jill was making him cry out in pain as she cruelly pulled his arm back, feeling the bone strain against dislocation, her knee crushing his larynx. Chris' breathing was labored, and she felt her heart breaking; this was worse than any of the things Wesker had forced her to do.

"Jill! Come on, it's me! Chris!! Snap out of it!!!" Jill was dying on the inside; her small hope from moments before vanishing. If she couldn't stop herself from hurting Chris, her partner, her one-time lover; then she was gone. The lights still on, but no one home; well, maybe a shadow or two.

Wesker was looking down on the whole scene, a quiet smirk on his face, before he spoke.

"Nice move, Chris. But now that your...partner has arrived, I'll leave you two to...catch up." Jill's despised ex-captain turns to leave, and she is suddenly filled with black rage at the cries of pain coming from Chris. Still, his arm resists breaking, and he stubbornly refused to give up on her.

"Come on, Jill!!! Get yourself together; WAKE UP!" Chris' face is a mask of pain. "JILL VALENTINE!!!!!!" Jill fought harder against the drugs running in her veins; if he wouldn't give up, then neither would she, damn it!

Her body felt like rubber as she forced her fingers to release, willed her leg to let up on Chris' windpipe; of a sudden, she was away from him, shaking her head of her own will; a tug-of-war with her own body. The effort was costing her greatly, her limbs trembled from the exertion. Sweat beaded her forehead and she tried to scream out to her old partner; 'Run! Get away!'

"Jill?!" Chris was confused, her intermingling screams of pain and rage piercing the air. Sheva was coming to, rubbing the back of her head, Wesker was turning in astonishment; all this she noted, but paid no heed. What little bit of ground she was gaining in her inner struggle needed to be maintained.

"Remarkable." Wesker's surprise was genuine. "Still resisting at such an advanced stage." His gaze met hers, and while Jill couldn't tell if he was meeting her eyes, she still glared at him with all the hatred that she felt. "Commendable, yet futile."

Wesker's head tilted to his left, a small marker that he had turned his attention to her partner. What was he going to do?

It was then that Jill recognized the device that Wesker held in his hand; far too late for her to do anything about it; not that she would have been able to.

The shocks hit her full force, and Jill felt her will tumbling with her form; clawing at her chest, she could have crowed aloud (had the action been possible) when the zipper slid open just enough to reveal the device attached to her flesh.

"No more time for games, Chris. I have work to do. Have fun watching Jill suffer." Wesker turned to the waiting elevator, striding quickly.

"Wait, what did you do to her?!?!" Chris' fist slammed on the already closed doors, frustration in his voice.

Before Jill hit the floor, her damned auto-pilot mode had kicked in, and she caught herself in a crouch, baring her teeth at her former partner.

Wesker's lips twitched; it had been too precious, seeing Chris' expression when he'd revealed Jill to the former S.T.A.R.S. member. His thoughts quickly turned to Claire, though; it seemed like the closer his mission got to completion, the more he thought about her. It had been six months since she had regained consciousness; six long months since he had held her in his arms. Soon, as long as her big brother didn't interfere anymore, he'd have her all to himself; the world at his feet.

Their child was growing rapidly inside of her; a healthy baby girl; he hoped to name the baby after himself, but ever since learning the sex of the child he had decided to let Claire make that call. They could have more children, perhaps a son to follow in his father's footsteps; although he was ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a father. His feelings for Claire hadn't dimmed, either; and perhaps that was the sole reason that he himself hadn't stayed to kill Christoper himself.

Claire would never forgive him if Wesker had been the one to snuff out that nuisance's frail life. Her body had finally accepted the virus, but he had kept her in stasis as a precautionary measure; just in case Uroboros had some unknown effect on her or their baby. If all went well, in less than two hours, and he could go home to something he had never had before; a family.

That thought alone sustained him. That hope was his new driving force. A perfect world for his perfect family.

His failsafe was still in place, however; Christopher Redfield had always been the monkey wrench in the the works for him; almost always effectively dashing his plans to hell. Wesker frowned. He had said the trigger words to Jill; she didn't remember his extra programming because he had instructed her not to remember until twenty four hours after he had spoken them. Even in the unlikely event that the device on her chest was destroyed, that information would lay in her subconscious mind for the alloted amount of time; so even if he failed his mission; even if he died; Claire would be alright. She'd be safe.

Wesker had no doubt that their child would be safe as well. Claire would see to that; always being very maternal. He had even pushed back the date for Uroboros' unveiling; just to ensure that both mother and child would have the utmost chance of survival.

He had re-written his will; leaving everything to their child, just in case. Wesker was a very wealthy man, after all. He pulled out the paperwork from his inside coat pocket, along with a last letter to Claire; and gave the items to the ex-Umbrella operative known only as H.U.N.K.; Wesker had absolutely no idea as to where the name came from, nor had he ever really cared.

"These are to be hand delivered to the base in Cairo, within the next twenty four hours. I want them laid out carefully, but make it obvious to the first person to walk through the B-4 laboratory doors. I want them found. Understand?"

"Perfectly, sir." H.U.N.K. Saluted him, he returned the worthless frivolity, and the soldier was gone on his way.

Wesker continued on towards his destiny; 'Ye sow what Ye reap', or so they say.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Wesker cried out in pain; burning and sinking into the molten lava; his vision awash with a red tinge. Hatred coursed though his veins, cold against the heat from the volcano. He could feel as his body tried desperately to heal itself under the intense heat, the wounds vanishing almost as soon as they were inflicted; but each time they scabbed over, the hot liquid ate it up again; he could almost feel his blood begin boiling in his veins.

This was worse than hell. He wished he could be human; then he wouldn't have to suffer so much. As he submerged further, the heat from the lava swept into his lungs, scorching the tissue there; taking away his breath momentarily. And then he became aware of the sound of helicopter blades whirring in the air; a rage like Wesker had never experienced washed over the dying B.O.W.; and he screamed out his adversary's name.

All of his plans, all of his hopes; gone, torn away from him cruelly by Chris Redfield. His newfound love; wasted. Their child, now fatherless.

Wesker lashed out, the strange tentacles latching themselves onto the helicopter, making it sway. He'd have his revenge. He rocked his body back and forth, sinking ever lower in the thick liquid, but his thrashing was making the helicopter lose control. Inside the giant metal bird, he saw a flurry of movement; and then there were two R.P.G.'s flying at his face. In that moment, Wesker felt his heart sink. And he had a vicious thought...which he screamed out as loudly as he could, hoping that somehow his nemesis would hear him over the rocket launchers, over the bubbling and frothing river of fire that was consuming him, and over the whirring of the helicopter blades.

"I FUCKED YOUR SISTER!!!"

And then there was the familiar cold feeling. The blackness enveloped him, he felt weightless, and then he felt....nothing.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Chris woke up to Jill shaking his shoulder, her face looking frantic in the dark of his room. He quickly sat up on his elbows, looking into her face blearily.

"Chris! We have to go! I know where Claire is; come on!" Jill whispered out. That instantly caught his attention, as his kid sister had been missing for the past seven months. Wordlessly, he slipped out from under the covers, and clicked on the bedside lamp. The mosquito net tripped him slightly, but he paid it no mind as he reached for his pants and shirt; only in his boxers. The B.S.A.A. Bunker they had stopped at for their debriefing and field report was air conditioned, but it was still sweltering here in Africa; the heat pressed in on his tall frame.

"How do you know where she is, Jill?" Chris asked, hopping on one leg as he struggled to get his pants on. "I've been searching for months; with absolutely no leads."

"Wesker had her. Chris, she's in Cairo. There's a research facility there; I remember seeing her," Jill paused, seemingly torn over something. "Chris, I don't know how to tell you this..."

"Just spit it out already," Chris said through his shirt, he was tired, sore, and now agitated as all hell that Wesker of all people had abducted his sister. He hoped that the slimy bastard was in the darkest recesses of hell, getting ass-raped by a 50 foot tall gorilla or something equally dastardly.

"She was pregnant when I saw her."

That stopped him. Dead in his tracks, his mouth falling agape. He tried to mouth the word 'pregnant', but it just came out as something like, "P..P...Puh.."

Jill nodded at his flabbergasted reaction, and Chris' eyes narrowed.

"Let's go." Chris' composure returned, and he wished for one moment that he had Wesker here, alive. Just so he could kill him again. "Where exactly in Cairo?"

Jill was quiet. She didn't answer him, instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. He looked down at her, smiling, returning the embrace. He understood. She'd know when they got there.

The pair headed out silently, and Chris nodded at the night guard as they left. There were no questions; the B.S.A.A. Office had been in an absolute uproar when two agents with no outside help, no back up, had stopped a lethal virus from being spread to the world, and most of the soldiers here had acted as if Chris was some kind of superhero.

The helicopter hanger was open, and the night shift pilot was sitting at his desk, flipping through what looked like a Playboy. When he heard their approach, he hurriedly stuffed the magazine under a stack of papers, and stood to salute Chris and Jill. The pair returned the salute.

"We need the bird." Chris stated. "You gonna take us, or am I gonna have to jack that thing?" He gestured over his shoulder towards the helicopter, and the young pilot smiled.

"I'll take you where ever you wanna go, Redfield. I take it this excursion isn't sanctioned yet, right?" His accent was British, the syllables clipped. A proper London street rat. "Another miracle in the works?"

"Rescue mission, and you're right, this isn't sanctioned. You sure you don't want me to knock you out and jack the copter?" Chris said, a smile blossoming on his lips.

"I'm sure that whatever this is, the higher ups will forgive you eventually; and I'm not worried about getting in trouble. Where to, you guys?"

"Cairo." Jill spoke. "What is your name, soldier?"

"Jason Culpepper."

"Well, Jason, welcome to the dark side." Jill smirked, nudging Chris. It was so much like old times again, when him and Jill would get in trouble for taking off, going A.W.O.L., only to be commended later for their swift actions against terrorists. The two partners shared a conspiratorial smile, before the three of them headed to the helicopter.

They were airborne in ten minutes, speeding off into the coming dawn.

"There!" Jill cried out, pointing at what looked like just another giant sand hill. They were over a great expanse of desert, and Jason slowly lowered the bird down, sand flying in every direction as Chris and Jill jumped down. Once the pair were on the ground, Chris could see the shape of the double doors that had been hidden in the shadow of the hill from above; and he pulled his gun, before taking point position. Jill nodded at him, and he swung the door inward, sweeping the room with his eyes before stepping in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the blistering sun outside to the much dimmer lights that were on here.

The room they had entered was covered in a sterile looking metal, and there was a desk in the corner. Chris stepped cautiously forward, but before he could take another step, Jill was at his side. She pushed his gun down, returning her own to it's holster.

"What are you doing? It could be dangerous here, Jill. You know what these bastards are capable of." Chris was confused.

"It won't be necessary here; Wesker had only one purpose for this facility. We won't find guards here, or even any data on experiments. Don't you see? He gave me all this information; implanted it in my brain when I was being dosed. He wanted you to find your sister, Chris." Jill's words didn't make sense to Chris, but he trusted her. He returned his gun to it's cradle beneath his arm, and followed Jill as she made her way to the back wall, where she slid aside a hidden panel and typed in a five digit pass code. Elevator doors opened in front of them, and Chris suppressed a shiver at her ease. She'd been here before, definitely.

The elevator ride was quiet, and he watched as the numbers above the door slowly descended, until they were at B-4. He wanted so badly to pull his gun, keep it ready, but Jill seemed unconcerned with it. He continued after her as they passed through two more doors, before Jill took a right, and then he found himself in a room that was one giant nursery. A beautiful wooden crib stood in the middle of the room, a matching rocking chair beside it. There was giant bears, stuffed animals; a huge teddy bear mobile hung from the ceiling. The walls were a pastel shade of pink, and Chris felt his gut clench up at the thought of Wesker keeping his sister here. An envelope sitting on the chair caught his attention briefly, but he ignored it.

"Stop for a minute, Chris." Jill looked as if she had made a decision; her face was serious. This room was starting to give him the creeps, but he listened to his partner.

"What is it, Jill? What was Wesker planning?" Chris asked.

"You have to promise me something before we go any further." Jill's blue eyes bore into his own, and Chris narrowed his gaze at her.

"Depends on what it is, Valentine."

Jill sighed. "Wesker told me that your sister had a rare marker in her blood; something genetic, that made her the perfect vessel. It's why he chose her. This wasn't about revenge against you. And there's something else, too. The baby, the child inside her; it's not something that was meant to be monstrous; not another experiment like we're used to. Your sister, Claire, is carrying Wesker's child."

"Wesker's child?! Jill, that's crazy, why the hell?" Chris was angry; furious at Wesker. Even in death he was causing havoc in Chris' life.

"You can't hurt the child, Chris. You have to promise me. It's an innocent." Jill pleaded. Chris was stunned.

"I know that, Jill. Even if I wanted to kill it, do you honestly think Claire would let me? You know how she feels about babies." Chris rolled his eyes. Wesker's progeny or not, if Claire was the mother, whether biologically or not, she'd never let anything happen to a child.

"Alright." Jill nodded, smiling at him before they continued to the door in the corner of the room. Jill swung it open, and strode forward. Chris followed, only to be stunned by all of the empty capsules surrounding him. It was the room in the basement floor of the mansion; well, similar. Just like the Tyrant's tank, only each and everyone empty. The pair traversed through the eerily lit room, and Chris almost ran into Jill as she had stopped abruptly. He looked at the tank that had her attention.

Curled almost into a fetal position inside of the tank, his sister floated, naked as a jay bird, tubes and wires attached to her arms and face, inside. Her stomach protruded largely in front of her, and Chris averted his gaze. He felt sick. Instead, Chris watched as Jill typed into the small console panel attached to the tank, and only looked up when a red light started to flash above them. The water was beginning to recede, and Chris watched as his sister's arms started flailing around her; she had jolted awake. He could see the panic on her face, and felt his heart kick in his chest.

Quickly, Chris shrugged his shirt off himself, getting it ready for his sister. She lay on her side in the large tank, sputtering and coughing. Jill's fingers typed in one last code, and the glass slid open. Chris grabbed his sister up in his arms, unmindful of her nudity; he was just so happy to see her. He cradled her in his arms, closing his eyes as she buried her face into his chest, the water dripping in rivulets off of her and onto him.

"Claire." Jill spoke gently, and he felt his sister glance at his partner.

"Wesker's dead, isn't he?" Claire's voice was raspy, and she sounded...hurt? Jill nodded, which sent Claire into hysterical sobs; his sister clutched onto him harder, almost bitingly. He winced at the pressure, frowning. Her reaction confused him. She was sad that her captor was dead?

"Sis, come on, we've got to get you out of here." Chris nodded to Jill, who had his shirt in her hand. "Can you stand?"

Claire nodded, sniffing, and he gingerly set her down, letting her lean on him. Her legs almost buckled, before she regained her balance shakily, the tears still running furiously down her cheeks. She let Jill dress her, the shirt hugging over her belly. He should have thought to bring something more suitable; her lower half was still uncovered, and Claire seemed suddenly embarrassed by her lack of clothing. Her hand rested on her stomach, and she stroked it lovingly, a small smile gracing her lips, before she fell against Jill, weeping loudly.

"Claire, come on, sweetie." Jill hugged his sister, and started to lead her out of the room, back through the nursery. However, as soon as they entered the babies room, she stopped, a new wave of sobs breaking the air.

Claire walked forward, touching the crib, running her fingers over it, and then she stopped at the chair, picking up the envelope.

"Wesker..." Claire sighed out, a whisper of longing in her tone. Her fingers shakily tore open the seal, and she was still as she read what looked like a handwritten letter. Her frail form sank into the rocking chair, and the page fluttered down to the floor, her expression blank. There were no more tears, only a deep sadness etched on her features.

Chris picked up the fallen scrap of paper, and read:

_My Dear Heart,_

_If you are reading this, then my plans have gone awry, and I shall never behold your face again, and shall never look upon our child. If you are reading this, my love, then I am dead. I want you to escape from here, I want you and our daughter to go on, and I want Christopher to be in our child's life as much as you are. He is, despite my feeling towards him, a good and honest man, a man that I was proud to work beside, proud to see growing in skills and courage, even as he became my nemesis. I don't want our daughter to grow up in a world like ours; and most of all, I want you to be happy._

_No matter the circumstances we came together, I will love you as much as I did the first time I saw you on that island so long ago. I have called you my dear heart, simply because you are the heart I never knew existed. Please forgive me for my flaws; and forgive me if ever I hurt you. I truly am sorry that I won't be there when our daughter takes her first steps, or says her first word, or even that dreaded moment that every father must face eventually; giving her away at her wedding. I wish you all the joy, love and happiness a person could ever hope to have. Remember me fondly, dear heart; and keep our child safe. Let her know how much I love her, every day of her life._

_The other envelope contains my last will and testament, please accept the things I've given you. The lawyer has another item, and this is for Christoper; it's a disk containing incriminating evidence against Tri-Cell. I commend his efforts, and hold no ill will against him. The better man has won. Tell him to give them hell; not that I doubt his ability to do so. Make them pay; and make this world a better place for our child, Claire._

_Forever and ever yours,_

_A. Wesker_

Chris stared at the handwritten words, flabbergasted. A last love letter? What the hell had transpired between Wesker and his sister?!?

Shaking his head, knowing that it didn't matter anymore, Chris pocketed the letter and the other envelope, and pulled Claire to her feet. She looked up into his eyes, her blue-gray eyes sparkling with tears; and Chris knew. He could see her broken heart staring up into his eyes. Whatever had happened between the two had changed his sister.

"I never told him I loved him," Claire smiled sadly, leaning on him. "He told me so many times, but I never believed him. I wish I had now." Chris didn't know what to say.

"It'll be alright, Claire." Jill put in, her hand coming up to clutch Claire's shoulder in reassurance. Claire patted Jill's hand, and smiled at the woman. She wiped at her tears, and Chris recognized the look that passed over her small features. She was collecting herself, pulling up her courage. Chris took the lead, following the path they had come in to get out.

"Jason, where you at, buddy?" Chris spoke into the walkie-talkie as the doors to the elevator opened up, and the three of them came out into the blinding light of the desert. There was static for a moment, and then, Jason's voice echoed out of the small speaker.

"On your ten o' clock, Redfield. I'll wait to start the bird till you're on. Got the package?"

"Affirmative," Chris said. "Get in the emergency kit, I'm gonna need that blanket. And Jason."

"Yes?"

"Close your eyes. I don't want you ogling my sister."

"Roger that." Jason chuckled, and Chris led the two women up the sandhill towards the helicopter.

Three months later...

Sweat beaded my brow, and I cried out as I pushed one last time. The pressure was suddenly gone, and my heart jumped as I heard her first beautiful cry. I peered over my knees, only catching the slightest of glimpses before the doctor turned, wrapping the infant in a clothe, wiping at her face gently. I wanted to hold her, I wanted her in my arms; but another contraction hit me, and yelped at the unexpected pain. Chris squeezed my hand, looking very pale. I smiled at him, as he tucked my wayward bangs behind my ear.

And then she was there, in my arms, the nurse handing the precious little bundle over to me. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest, and I held my breath as I looked upon the tiny face. Her eyes opened, and the glazed ice blue orbs seemed to hold my own for a breathless moment. I touched her button nose, and then stroked the side of her face lovingly, my heart constricting in my ribcage. People were talking, the nurses congratulating me, but I didn't really hear them. The top of her head was covered in a pale blonde peach fuzz, and I smiled widely, looking up at my brother. He grinned down at me, his finger rubbing my child's arm gently. Looking back at the precious bundle in my arms, I laughed lowly as her little finger wrapped itself around Chris' finger, and I kissed the top of her forehead.

"Allison. I want to name her Allison." I said, my voice full of tears. "Allison Wesker Redfield."

Chris was quiet for a moment, and I looked up at him. He couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face, his teeth showing as he replied, "That's a wonderful name, Claire." I could tell he meant it, even though I knew that her middle name had grated on his nerves just a little. "Little Allie. You are just so precious, aren't you?" Chris was talking to the baby, his tone high and the words babyish. I laughed aloud at that, a minor contraction gripping my gut, and I shuddered as I felt the afterbirth slide out. Chris reached up to my face, and wiped away the tear that I hadn't been aware of, before kissing my head.

"Love you, bro."

"Love you too, sis."

FIN.

Author's note: I'm sorry, to everyone out there who will be disappointed that Wesker is dead. I apologize. But somehow I doubt very much that Albert Wesker could come back from the depths that Capcom sent him to. If somewhere in the future, his character makes another appearance, perhaps I will write a second story. That being said, I want to thank everyone who has read this story. Everyone who has reviewed it. It has been quite a ride, I've got to say. I hope to write another one soon. Perhaps something about Leon and Claire...I did kind of hint at it in this story.

I am not a Leon x Claire supporter, but then again, nor am I a huge Wesker x Claire supporter. I honestly don't have feelings one way or the other as to who should end up with whom. I just get ideas, and choose the characters that would best fit my purposes; a user until the end.


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